THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

Education 
GIFT  OF 

PROFESSOR 
LEON  J.  RICHARDSON 


PEASY'S  CHILDHOOD. 


PEASY'S   CHILDHOOD 


STORIES   FOR   CHILDREN, 

AND  FOR   ALL  WHO   REMEMBER  THAT  THEY 
HAVE  BEEN  CHILDREN. 


CAMBRIDGE,    MASS. 

UNIVERSITY    PRESS. 


Fifty  copies  printed. 
No.  ...£.: 


Education 
GIFT 


ANNIE  AND   ELEANOR: 

My  beloved,  let  this  little  book  connect  my  childhood 
with  yours. 


•  = 


068 


CONTENTS. 


I.  MY  FIRST  SCHOOL    . 

II.  THE  POOR  LITTLE  BABY 

III.  Two  LUMPS  OF  SUGAR 

IV.  WELLINGTON 

V.  BlRKENIIEAD 

VI.  THE  ISLE  OF  MAN 

VII.  "  You  MUST  N'T  TOUCH  ! " 


PAGE 

8 

25 

37 

70 

122 

161 

226 


PEASY'S  CHILDHOOD. 


FE  summer  afternoon,  not  very  long  ago,  I 
was  standing  upon  the  summit  of  the  Bigi, 
from  whence  on  a  clear  day  one  of  the  finest  views 
in  the  world  is  to  be  seen.  But  this  was  not  a  clear 
day,  and  strain  my  eyes  as  I  would,  nothing  was 
visible  but  the  warm  smiling  blue  sky  above  and  the 
cold  gloomy  ocean  of  mist  below.  From  the  top  of 
solitary  Eockall  in  the  midst  of  the  Atlantic  one 
gets  just  about  such  a  prospect;  only  on  the  Eigi 
one  is  not  surrounded  by  the  nests  and  the  fluttering 
wings  of  sea-birds;  Alpine  roses  and  blue  gentians 
grow  at  one's  feet  instead ;  and  the  distant  tinkling 
of  herd-bells  soothes  one's  ear  in  place  of  the  clangor 
and  screaming  of  gulls  and  mews. 

So  there  I   stood  upon  the  mountain,  half  won- 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


dering,  half  disappointed,  looking  down  into  the 
mist.  Suddenly  it  began  to  assume  consistency,  to 
be  furrowed,  to  be  heaped  into  ridges,  to  form  hills 
and  valleys,  to  be  varied  with  lights  and  shadows. 
Then  it  looked  like  the  pale  ghost  of  the  earth  with 
all  its  heights  and  plains  in  winding-sheets.  Soon 
it  began  to  rock  and  reel,  as  if  the  ghost  of  an 
earthquake  had  taken  possession  of  it,  and  under 
my  very  eyes  a  tremendous  fissure  opened.  Ah, 
what  did  I  see!  A  lake  sparkled,  meadows  glowed 
in  sunshine,  white  dots  of  villages  nestled  against 
dark  forests,  —  it  was  all  so  distinct,  yet  so  very 
far  beneath  me.  I  thought  of  the  peasant  in  the 
story  who  peeped  down  between  two  sods  and  saw 
the  very  centre  of  the  earth  and  all  the  glories 
of  fairy-land.  But  almost  before  I  had  time  for 
the  thought  the  fissure  closed,  the  vision  vanished, 
and  another  appeared,  even  in  the  midst  of  my 
first  sigh  of  disappointment.  Yes,  there  they  stood, 
those  giants  of  the  Bernese  Oberland,  glorifying  the 
horizon  like  a  company  of  archangels  with  their 
white  wings  folded. 


And  so,  for  a  long  time,  the  magical  earthquake 
rocked  and  heaved  and  gave  up  its  splendors.  Just 
so  it  is  with  the  remembrances  of  early  childhood. 
The  heavy  mist  of  oblivion  blots  out  most  of  the 
events  of  our  first  days,  but  here  and  there,  we  know 
not  how  or  why,  it  parts,  —  and  certain  scenes,  cer- 
tain occurrences,  certain  periods  even,  stand  out  from 
among  its  dark  folds  in  perfect  distinctness  of  out- 
line, and  bathed  in  that  wonderfully  clear  atmosphere 
which  belongs  only  to  these  very  early  memories. 
This  I  thought  to  myself  as  I  was  descending  the 
Rigi  on  the  next  day,  amid  singing  torrents  and 
dancing  birches. 

Then  I  began  to  have  a  desire  to  put  into  words 
some  of  these  little  enamelled  pictures  of  my  own 
childish  memory,  and  after  I  had  gratified  this  desire, 
I  began  to  ask  myself  if  there  might  not  be  other 
children  who  would  like  to  get  acquainted  with  my 
childhood.  In  writing  these  stories  I  seemed  to 
grow  young  again  and  to  long  for  playfellows  of  a 
new  generation.  Will  you  take  me  among  you,  dear 
little  children  ? 

7 


I. 


MY  FIRST  SCHOOL. 

IE  my  sister  Anne  and  I  had  left  our  dear 
English  home  to  live  in  America  we  became 
"  thorough  little  John  Bulls/'*  as  people  used  to  call 
us.  William  IY.  was  king  of  England  then,  the 
predecessor  of  Queen  Victoria,  and  we  professed  the 
greatest  loyalty  to  him.  We  knew  the  names  of 
the  royal  dukes,  his  brothers,  and  their  children, 
the  names  of  the  English  nobility,  and  their  country- 
seats,  and  the  titles  of  their  eldest  sons,  all  of  which 
we  studied  out  of  certain  pamphlets  in  our  father's 
possession.  We  adored  everything  English  and 
despised  everything  American,  and  we  had  daily 
quarrels  with  our  schoolfellows  on  that  account. 
We  could  boast  of  Lord  Nelson  and  the  Duke 
of  Wellington,  while  they  declared  that  General 


MY    FIRST    SCHOOL. 


Washington  and  Lafayette  were  a  great  deal  "smarter 
men."  They  would  whistle  "Yankee  Doodle/"  while 
we  sang  "  God  save  the  King"  at  the  top  of  our 
lungs,  each  party  trying  to  make  more  noise  than  the 
other.  Our  mother  rather  sympathized  with  us  in 
our  British  loyalty,  which  made  us  very  proud,  but 
we  thought  she  fell  away  from  grace  terribly,  when 
we  saw  her  eating  squash  and  sweet  corn  with  relish, 
and  declaring  she  liked  them.  We  never  tasted 
them,  nor  Indian  puddings,  nor  brown  bread,  nor 
baked  beans,  for  these  articles  of  food  were  unknown 
in  England,  and  we  professed  to  shudder  with  dis- 
gust when  they  were  offered  to  us.  "  Which  do  you 
like  best,  treacle  or  molasses  ?  "  people  would  ask  us, 
and  with  one  voice  we  answered  "  Treacle,"  which  is 
the  English  word  for  molasses ;  but  we  did  not  know 
that.  We  thought  English  ways  and  English  people 
were  perfect,  and  we  were  so  sensitive  on  that  point, 
that  if  a  word  was  said  by  any  one  to  the  contrary, 
we  would  rush  out  of  the  room,  burst  into  tears,  and 
sob  indignantly  in  each  other's  arms.  Two  foolish 
children  indeed  we  were ! 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


One  day  a  gentleman  who  had  just  returned  from 
England  called  on  my  mother  to  bring  her  the  last 
news  of  her  friends  there.  He  was  dressed  rather 
peculiarly,  and  I  remember  he  told  my  mother  that 
his  clothes  had  been  made  in  London.  Anne  and  I 
were  sitting  on  a  couple  of  footstools  (we  never  said 
cricket,  for  that  was  an  American  word)  at  his  feet, 
and  we  simultaneously  laid  our  heads  gently  against 
his  knees,  feeling  that  the  touch  of  those  English- 
made  garments  was  almost  sacred.  He  was  a  kind 
old  friend,  and  he  smiled  approvingly  down  upon  us 
at  this  mark  of  affection,  which  he  little  thought  was 
paid  to  his  trousers  rather  than  to  himself.  Bat  soon 
he  began  to  talk  to  our  mother  about  the  discomforts 
of  travelling  in  England  for  an  American,  and  espe- 
cially the  want  of  variety  in  the  food.  ( '  Why,  ma'am/' 
said  he,  "  in  Paris  you  find  a  confectioner's  shop  at 
every  corner,  and  there  you  can  get  all  kinds  of  jellies, 
tarts,  and  garters"  (he  meant  gateaux).  "But  in  an 
English  city,  even  in  London,  if  you  go  into  a  pastry- 
cook's shop  for  a  bit  of  luncheon,  when  you  are  tired 
with  sight-seeing,  they  never  give  you  anything  but 
10 


MY    FIRST    SCHOOL. 


buns  and  beer,  buns  and  beer.  If  any  one  asks  me 
for  what  productions  England  is  famous,  I  say  buns 
and  beer.)J 

The  gentleman  laughed  as  if  he  had  said  something 
very  funny,  but  we  were  sadly  disappointed  in  him ; 
we  thought  his  manner  of  speaking  of  buns  highly 
disrespectful.  Buns  had  been  the  one  luxury  of  our 
lives,  before  we  left  England  j  mamma  had  used 
them  as  rewards  of  merit,  so  that  they  were  associated 
in  our  minds  with  all  the  virtues.  If  we  spelled  suc- 
cessfully a  column  of  "  Words  in  Four  Syllables," 
standing  with  toes  turned  out,  and  hands  behind  our 
backs,  we  were  presented  with  buns;  if  we  "ran"  the 
heels  of  papa's  socks  strictly  according  to  the  rule, 
"  take  up  one  thread  and  leave  three  threads/'  buns 
rewarded  us. 

When  the  old  gentleman  had  finished  his  visit,  my 
sister  and  I  stood  at  the  window  and  watched  him 
crossing  the  street  daintily  in  his  new  London  clothes. 
The  streets  were  full  of  melting  ice  and  snow,  and  a 
sticky  black  mud,  which  spoiled  every  garment  that 
it  touched,  so  that  we  thought  of  nothing  else 
11 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


but  how  to  keep  out  of  it  when  we  took  our  walks 
abroad. 

Suddenly  we  saw  running  round  the  corner  of  the 
street  a  little  boy,  who  laughed  and  shouted  and 
looked  back  continually,  sometimes  stopping  to  dance 
in  a  derisive  way ;  and  in  a  moment  his  mother  fol- 
lowed, also  running,  but  very  much  out  of  breath ;  her 
face  was  very  red,  and  she  was  making  frantic  signs 
to  the  naughty  boy  to  stop.  He  had  evidently  broken 
away  from  her,  and  she  never  could  have  caught  him 
in  the  world  had  he  not  carelessly  fallen  into  the  gut- 
ter, right  into  the  very  blackest  of  the  mud.  She 
pounced  upon  him  at  once,  and  in  a  whirlwind  of 
confusion  they  disappeared  again  round  the  corner, 
she  scolding  the  little  boy,  shaking  him,  wiping  him, 
cuffing  his  ears  till  his  cap  fell  over  his  eyes,  and  then 
cuffing  it  back  again  to  its  place,  and  he  roaring  at 
the  top  of  his  lungs,  and  promising  to  be  a  good  boy, 
sputtering  with  his  mouth  full  of  mud. 

"  There  is  no  such  nasty  mud  as  that  in  England," 
said  I  emphatically.  "0,  Anne,  do  you  remember 
the  lovely  clean  mud  in  Mr.  Mason's  back  lane,  where 
12 


MY    FIRST    SCHOOL. 


we  used  to  keep  a  baker's  shop  and  set  out  our  mud 
cakes  and  rolls  on  the  broken  kitchen  chair  ?  Don't 
'sturb  me.  I  'm  going  into  the  corner  to  remember 
it  all  up."  So  down  I  sat  behind  the  sofa,  covering 
my  eyes  with  my  apron,  and  letting  myself  go  back 
into  my  short  past. 

Yes,  the  first  thing  I  ever  made  in  my  life  was  a 
dirt-pie.  You  may  imagine  how  much  I  admired  it 
when  it  was  finished.  The  mud  was  just  of  the  right 
consistency.  I  had  shaped  it  with  the  crown  of  my 
hat,  ornamented  the  edge  with  a  row  of  white  pebbles, 
and  stuck  bits  of  broken  crockery  all  over  the  top 
in  imitation  of  citron.  "  Ah/'  thought  I,  "  if  Anne 
would  only  come  out  and  look  at  it,  or  even  if  nurse 
would  bring  the  baby,  that  would  be  better  than 
nothing."  Unluckily  my  pie  was  erected  in  the  very 
centre  of  the  back  lane,  and  I  dared  not  leave  it, 
even  to  run  into  the  house  for  my  little  sister,  lest 
some  stray  dog  or  cow  should  demolish  it  by  walk- 
ing through  it.  So  I  sat  very  patiently  mounting 
guard  in  the  middle  of  a  deep  rut,  looking  intently 
at  the  nursery- window,  which  just  appeared  over  the 

13 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


garden-hedge  that  bounded  the  lane,  that  I  might 
beckon  to  little  Anne  the  moment  her  face  should 
show  itself.  But  instead  of  Anne,  my  father  was 
the  first  person  who  appeared,  sauntering  down  the 
lane  for  an  evening  walk. 

"  0  papa;"  cried  I,  as  soon  as  he  was  near  enough, 
"  just  look  at  my  pie  !  Is  n't  it  beautiful  ?  " 

I  pointed  to  it  proudly;  I  could  not  find  any 
more  words  to  express  my  admiration  and  satisfac- 
tion. They  were  too  great  for  speech.  But  my 
father's  face  puzzled  me  a  little ;  he  did  not  look 
altogether  enchanted. 

"Beautiful?  It's  you  who  are  beautiful/'  he 
cried ;  "  you  're  covered  with  dirt  from  head  to 
foot.  Yes,  your  hair  is  actually  matted  together  with 
mud.  Let  's  see  what  your  mother  will  say  to 
you/' 

He  took  me  up  in  his  arms,  and  with  one  stroke 
of  his  foot  he  demolished  all  my  handiwork.  I  burst 
into  a  loud  roar  of  anger  and  mortification,  a  little 
consoled,  however,  by  seeing  that  a  piece  of  my  citron 
had  cut  my  father's  boot  sadly. 

14 


MY    FIRST    SCHOOL. 


I  did  not  get  a  very  flattering  reception  in  the 
house.  My  mother  and  the  nurse  looked  at  me  with 
serious  faces,  making  well-known  sounds  of  disap- 
probation with  their  tongues  against  the  roofs  of  their 
mouths.  Even  little  Anne  would  not  touch  me  when 
I  held  out  to  her  a  hand  covered  with  black  streaks 
and  dirty  tears. 

"  My  dear,"  said  my  father  to  my  mother,  "  how 
can  you  let  this  child  get  into  such  a  state,  and  run 
about  the  neighborhood  bareheaded  like  a  young 
gypsy  ?  It  's  very  unsafe,  very  improper." 

"  My  dear,"  replied  my  mother  to  my  father, 
"  what  you  say  is  very  true ;  I  thought  she  was 
safe  and  sound  on  the  parlor-sofa  with  her  picture- 
books  ;  but  with  Anne  and  Lucretia  and  the  baby  to 
look  after,  I  declare  I  cannot  pay  proper  attention 
to  Peasy.  She  must  really  be  sent  to  school.  Old 
Peggy  Jones's  daughter  keeps  a  nice  little  school, 
and  to-morrow  morning  I  '11  take  Peasy  down  there 
without  fail." 

Next  morning  nurse  brushed  my  hair  till  I  was 
quite  in  a  pet ;  a  larger  bib  than  usual  was  pinned 

15 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


over  my  clean  frock  at  breakfast,,  and  I  was  charged 
not  to  spill  my  milk  into  my  lap,  "  Because,  miss, 
you  are  going  to  school."  I  had  no  idea  what  sort 
of  place  "  school "  was,  but  I  did  not  like  this  air  of 
preparation,  nor  did  I  like  Peggy  Jones,  who  often 
came  to  sew  for  my  mother.  I  was  sure,  therefore, 
that  I  should  not  like  her  daughter. 

After  breakfast  my  hat  was  brought  and  tied  under 
my  chin.  It  had  been  washed  and  pressed  to  cleanse 
it  from  the  fragments  of  dirt-pie,  and  the  straw 
creaked  very  disagreeably.  My  mother  took  out  of 
the  closet  a  certain  detestable  primer,  full  of  great 
staring  A  B  C's.  Often  had  I  been  called  from  the 
most  delightful  plays  to  stand  at  her  knee,  and 
follow  the  point  of  her  pin  down  the  long  column 
of  letters  which  adorned  the  first  page.  I  did  not 
like  the  primer,  it  was  associated  with  too  many 
gentle  reminders  of  my  mother's  thimble  on  my 
stupid  little  head. 

"  You  are  to  take  this  to  school,"  said  my  mother, 
putting  the  book  into  a  sombre  green  satchel. 

"  O  no,  marnma,"  cried  I,  eagerly.    "  I  don't  want 

16 


MY    FIRST    SCHOOL. 


it.  I  'd  a  great  deal  rather  carry  the  '  Sixteen  Won- 
derful Old  Women/  or  '  Deborah  Dent/  " 

"Peasy,"  said  my  mother  in  a  solemn  voice,  "  you 
are  going  to  school  to  learn." 

My  heart  sank  at  once,  nor  was  I  much  comforted 
by  seeing  mamma  put  two  figs  and  a  bun  into  the 
satchel.  I  felt  sure  they  would  taste  of  the  primer. 
I  took  an  affecting  farewell  of  little  Anne.  I  was  in 
the  habit  of  regulating  my  feelings  a  good  deal  by 
what  I  imagined  to  be  the  expression  of  her  face. 
This  time  it  was  a  very  grave  face. 

"  Good  by,  Anne,  good  by/'  I  half  sobbed.  "  I  '11 
let  you  play  with  my  churn  while  I  'm  gone,  and 
you  may  put  pins  into  Callie's  eyes,  if  you  want  to," 
—  Gallic  being  a  calico  doll. 

Mamma  could  wait  no  longer,  so  away  we  went 
together  under  her  great  parasol. 

It  was  a  morning  of  mornings !  The  breeze  had 
all  the  warmth  of  summer  and  the  freshness  of 
spring;  the  hedges  were  full  of  little  birds,  who 
bustled  noisily  under  the  leaves,  or  burst  out  upon 
us  suddenly  from  among  them,  with  loud  snatches 

17 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


of  song.  " No  wonder/'  thought  I;  "they  are  not 
going  to  school ! "  There  was  a  sort  of  holiday 
brilliancy  in  the  sunshine,  and  all  the  tiny  blades 
of  grass  were  dancing  together.  The  wild  rose- 
bushes were  covered  with  flowers,  which  stared  at 
me  like  so  many  great  eyes,  just  as  if  they  knew 
where  I  was  going.  I  felt  very  unhappy  and  very 
cross. 

"  Peasy,"  said  mamma,  in  her  amiable  way, 
"would  not  you  like  to  pick  a  few  of  these  roses 
to  give  to  your  teacher?" 

"  No,"  said  I,  with  more  decision  than  politeness. 

When  we  reached  the  door  of  Peggy  Jones's  cot- 
tage, a  great  buzzing  and  humming  of  voices  from 
within  announced  that  school  was  already  begun. 
Mamma  was  obliged  to  knock  several  times  with 
the  handle  of  her  parasol  before  she  could  be  heard. 
Meantime  my  ill-temper  seemed  to  be  "  running  out 
of  the  heels  of  my  boots,"  and  I  was  seized,  instead, 
with  a  terrible  fear  and  timidity  which  made  me 
tremble  all  over.  My  heart  beat,  and  a  dimness 
came  over  my  eyes.  I  could  hardly  see  Miss  Jones 

18 


MY    FIRST    SCHOOL. 


when  she  opened  the  door,  but  her  head  seemed  to 
tower  up  to  the  very  ceiling.  Mamma  said  some- 
thing to  me  about  "  being  a  good  girl/'  and  "  wait- 
ing after  school  till  I  was  sent  for/'  and  then  walked 
away  with  her  usual  composure,  as  if  nothing  was  the 
matter.  I  was  too  much  frightened  not  to  be  per- 
fectly passive,  and  in  this  state  I  was  led  into  the 
school,  and  through  rows  of  girls  up  to  the  very 
top  of  the  room.  I  only  remember  that  these  girls 
appeared  to  me  like  young  giantesses  with  eyes 
bigger  than  the  dog-roses,  and  more  staring. 

After  Miss  Jones  had  left  me  seated  upon  a  little 
cricket  with  my  back  against  the  wall,  I  began  to 
recover  myself  and  to  look  about  me.  Not  being 
used  to  children  older  than  myself,  and  knowing 
nothing  about  their  occupations  and  amusements,  I 
found  plenty  of  things  to  wonder  at.  I  was  at  first 
completely  absorbed  in  the  patchwork.  I  thought 
the  long  strips  of  gay-colored  piece's  dazzlingly  beau- 
tiful, and  the  squares  of  calico  covered  with  vines 
and  sprigs  my  imagination  converted  into  pictures 
of  garden-beds  adorned  with  flowers. 

19 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


By  and  by  1  perceived  that  there  were  a  great 
many  primers  in  the  room  just  like  mine.  This 
was  a  disagreeable  discovery,  and  quite  diverted  my 
mind  from  the  patchwork.  Several  girls  were  hold- 
ing their  primers  close  to  their  faces,  and  spelling  out 
of  their  columns  in  loud  whispers.  They  rocked 
themselves  backwards  and  forwards  as  if  they  were 
in  great  pain.  I  pitied  them  from  the  bottom  of 
my  heart.  Pretty  soon  the  classes  went  up  to  re- 
cite. I  noticed  how  they  all  stood  in  a  line,  with 
their  heels  together,  toes  turned  out  and  hands  behind 
them.  They  reminded  me  of  the  awkward  squad 
of  a  certain  regiment  which  I  had  often  seen  drill- 
ing at  M .  . . . ,  and  I  thought  Miss  Jones  put  out  the 
words  to  spell  with  the  fierceness  of  a  drill-sergeant. 
Worse  than  that,  she  too  wore  a  thimble  like  mamma, 
and  used  it  in  the  same  way.  Worst  of  all,  one 
very  dull  girl  was  made  to  stand  in  the  corner  with 
her  face  to  the  wall,  for  inattention  to  that  terrible 
primer.  My  terror  returned  at  this  spectacle.  I 
felt  that  I  should  never  have  courage  to  go  up 
and  say  my  letters,  without  even  the  aid  of  a  pin; 

20 


MY     FIRST     SCHOOL. 


I  knew  that  I  should  be  deprived  of  sight  and 
speech  as  soon  as  I  found  myself  placed  at  Miss 
Jones's  awful  knee,  and  I  was  sure  that,  after  well 
exercising  her  thimble  upon  my  head,  she  would  end 
by  placing  me  too  in  another  corner,  and  that  the 
whole  school  would  despise  me.  Then  I  thought 
of  home  and  of  Anne.  It  seemed  to  me  that  years 
had  passed  since  I  had  seen  them,  and  that  it  would 
be  years  before  I  should  see  them  again.  O  that 
my  mother  could  only  know  what  I  felt!  And 
this  thought  of  mamma  overcame  my  fortitude.  I 
began  to  cry  vehemently,  with  my  pinafore  covering 
my  face.  This  made  some  confusion  in  the  school ; 
but  Miss  Jones  must  have  been  a  judicious  teach- 
er, for  instead  of  scolding  me  she  gently  told  me 
that  she  supposed  I  was  tired,  and  that  I  might 
go  out  in  the  yard  and  play  with  some  kittens 
which  she  had.  She  told  one  of  the  large  girls  to 
take  me  and  show  me  the  way,  and  added  that  I 
need  not  come  in  till  I  felt  better.  As  I  persisted 
in  keeping  my  head  and  face  concealed  in  my  pina- 
fore, I  was  led  blindfold  out  of  school,  and 

21 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


the  children  laughed  till  my   cheeks    tingled  with 
shame. 

When  I  found  myself  alone  with  the  kittens  I 
cried  more  than  ever.  The  old  cat  was  very  kind; 
she  licked  off  my  tears  and  purred  in  a  motherly 
way,  so  I  soon  felt  a  little  better,  and  even  untied 
the  strings  of  my  shoes  for  the  kittens  to  play  with. 
After  a  good  romp  with  them  in  the  fresh  air,  I 
gathered  courage  enough  to  think  about  returning 
into  school.  I  ventured  back  to  the  door  and 
tapped  gently.  But  the  first  class  was  going 
through  the  multiplication-table,  and  nobody  heard 
me.  My  courage  vanished  just  as  my  ill-temper 
had  done  in  the  morning,  and  I  took  a  desperate 
resolution:  I  would  go  home.  To  be  sure  I  did 
not  know  the  way,  and  I  had  never  walked  in  the 
roads  alone ;  but  I  would  try,  —  anything  was  better 
than  the  primer  and  the  girls'  eyes.  So  I  started, 
running  with  all  my  speed.  The  faster  I  ran  the 
more  agitated  I  became.  I  fancied  the  whole  school 
was  behind  me,  chasing  me,  and  Miss  Jones,  with  her 
long  legs  and  her  thimble,  gaining  upon  me  at  every 

22 


MY    FIRST    SCHOOL. 


step.  I  don't  know  how  I  found  my  way  back,  but 
I  am  sure  I  must  have  startled  my  mother  when  I 
burst  into  her  parlor.  I  had  no  hat,  only  one  shoe, 
and  the  other  was  minus  a  string.  My  face  was  on 
fire  with  heat  and  excitement,  my  hair  in  a  snarl, 
my  clothes  tumbled,  and  my  neck  and  arms  adorned 
with  long  scratches,  bestowed  by  my  friends  the 
kittens.  Little  Anne  was  the  first  object  that  I 
sought.  She  was  sitting  at  the  window  in  a  high- 
chair,  all  dressed  in  white,  her  grave,  composed  face 
as  cool  and  fresh-looking  as  her  frock.  She  was 
eating  strawberries  out  of  a  white  plate,  with  her 
feet  carefully  turned  out  on  the  step  of  the  chair. 
I  can  see,  as  well  as  if  they  were  before  me  now, 
the  gilt  buttons  of  her  shoes,  and  her  socks  so  nicely 
smoothed  over  the  ankles.  I  flew  towards  her,  and 
peace  and  calmness  passed  into  my  childish  being 
as  I  laid  my  hot  face  in  her  lap.  She  said  not  a 
word,  but  patted  me  with  her  little  soft  hands,  and 
pushed  a  strawberry  into  my  mouth. 

Mamma    must  have   concluded  that  I  was    too 
young  to  go  to  school.     At  least  she  did  not  re- 

23 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


prove  me  for  running  away,  nor  offer  to  take  me 
there  again.  She  sent  for  my  hat,  for  which  I 
was  very  glad,  and  for  my  primer,  for  which  I 
was  very  sorry.  But  I  had  lost  my  taste  for  dirt- 
pies,  and  I  suppose  she  thought  that  was  quite 
as  much  as  she  could  expect  from  two  hours' 
schooling. 


Sri 


II. 


THE  POOR  LITTLE  BABY. 

|NE  morning  I  was  having  a  fine  play  in  the 
nursery  with  little  Anne.  "We  "made  be- 
lieve" that  we  were  riding  to  America  to  see  our 
relations.  We  placed  two  chairs  side  by  side  for  a 
chaise,  and  two  others,  turned  down,  were  our  horses. 
These  were  harnessed  with  a  variety  of  old  tapes  and 
strings,  and  a  couple  of  our  sashes  made  excellent 
reins.  We  had  our  two  nightgowns  rolled  up  for  bag- 
gage, and  a  small  basketful  of  stones  and  chips,  which 
represented  cakes  and  buns.  Father  had  been  read- 
ing to  me  the  "Pilgrim's  Progress,"  where  Christiana, 
Mercy,  and  four  hungry  boys  make  the  journey  to 
the  Eternal  City  with  no  other  provisions  than  an 
occasional  pomegranate  and  a  few  bunches  of  grapes. 
So  when  Anne  suggested  that  we  might  eat  up  our 

25 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


cakes  before  we  got  to  America,  and  that  we  ought 
to  provide  ourselves  with  some  chickens  and  loaves 
of  bread,  I  quoted  John  Bunyan  to  her,  and  she 
yielded  to  my  superior  learning.  Of  course  we  did 
not  intend  to  take  so  long  a  journey  without  meeting 
with  adventures,  and  we  made  ourselves  plenty  of 
them.  Our  chaise  broke  down,  upset,  its  wheels  came 
off,  its  floor  fell  through;  our  horses  stumbled, 
reared,  kicked,  and  plunged.  We  had  an  idea  that 
there  was  water  to  be  crossed  somewhere  on  the  road 
to  America,  so  we  occasionally  got  down  upon  the 
floor  and  swam  a  little.  We  were  having  a  delight- 
fully noisy  time. 

By  and  by  the  baby,  who  was  lying  in  nurse's  lap, 
stirred  uneasily,  and  began  to  cough  and  choke  and 
struggle.  This  was  nothing  new  to  us,  for  the  poor 
little  fellow,  though  only  four  months  old,  had  been 
suffering  with  the  whooping-cough  for  some  weeks. 
But  this  was  a  very  bad  fit  of  strangling,  and  nurse 
looked  at  the  baby  with  great  concern  as  she  raised 
him  and  tried  to  make  him  comfortable. 

"  Poor  dear  ! "  said  nurse,  shaking  her  head,  "  he 

26 


THE     POOR     LITTLE     BABY. 


gets  weaker  and  weaker  every  day,  he  '11  never  get 
over  it,  —  he  can't  bear  it  much  longer/'  added  she, 
as  the  poor  little  exhausted  sufferer  sank  back  with 
closed  eyes  and  purple  lips,  after  the  paroxysm  was 
over. 

"  What  will  he  do/'  said  I,  "  when  he  can't  bear 
it  any  longer  ?  " 

"  God  will  take  him,"  answered  nurse,  gravely. 

"But,  Mary,"  said  I,  «  why  could  n't  God  take  one 
of  us  three  girls  instead  ?  Don't  girls  make  as  good 
angels  as  boys  ?  And  mamma  has  only  one  boy." 

"  Lord  sakes,  miss  !  "  said  Mary,  which  was  not 
a  very  satisfactory  answer. 

This  was  Saturday,  and  on  Saturday  evening  it 
was  my  mother's  custom  to  have  a  tub  of  hot  water 
brought  into  the  nursery  and  all  the  children  well 
scrubbed  in  soap-suds.  As  I  was  the  eldest,  my  turn 
came  last,  and  on  this  particular  evening,  while  Anne 
and  Lucretia  were  passing  under  nurse's  vigorous 
hands,  I  drew  my  little  chair  close  up  to  mamma,  who 
was  holding  the  baby.  I  was  so  still  that  she  hardly 
observed  me;  she  scarcely  took  her  eyes  from  the 

27 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


baby's  face,  and  I  noticed  that  she  looked  very  sad, 
very  pale,  very  tired.  I  remembered  how  she  had 
watched  over  him  day  after  day  and  night  after  night, 
and  now  if  God  should  take  him  away  after  all !  I 
had  not  forgotten  for  a  moment  what  nurse  had  said 
in  the  morning;  I  longed  to  ask  mamma  what  she 
thought,  but  I  dared  not,  for  the  love  arid  pity  that  I 
felt  for  her.  The  baby  was  very  quiet ;  he  was  very 
thin,  dark  circles  surrounded  his  eyes  and  lips,  his 
face  had  a  touching  look  of  suffering  patience,  and 
something  strange  and  stern  seemed  to  flit  across  this 
pitiful  expression.  It  was  the  shadow  of  death,  but  I 
did  not  know  it,  only  my  whole  heart  was  drawn  to- 
wards him  with  a  love  full  of  awe.  There  was  a  har- 
mony of  expression  between  my  mother's  face  and  his. 
They  seemed  to  understand  each  other,  and  I  felt  like 
an  intruder,  an  outsider.  "  Mother,"  said  I  at  last,  in 
a  low,  timid  voice,  and  biting  my  lips  hard  to  keep  from 
crying,  —  "  mother,  do  you  think  our  baby  will  die  ?  " 
My  mother  cleared  her  throat,  but  there  were  tears 
in  her  eyes  as  she  answered  in  an  equally  low  tone, 
"I  hope  he  is  better  to-night." 


THE    POOR    LITTLE    BABY. 


"  O  mamma/''  said  I,  rising  and  holding  out  my 
arms  with  an  irrepressible  longing,  "  do  let  me  take 
him  just  for  a  moment ;  he  's  so  light,  poor  little 
thing  !  and  I  do  want  you  to  give  him  to  me  this  once, 
only  this  once ;  I  '11  be  very  careful."  I  had  never 
been  allowed  to  touch  him,  but  without  a  word 
mamma  answered  my  request  by  putting  him  into 
my  arms. 

He  was  a  very  light  weight,  and  mamma  soon  saw 
that  I  was  quite  able  to  carry  him  slowly  up  and 
down  the  room.  The  short  twilight  of  a  Febru- 
ary night  was  deepening,  but  I  thought  it  strange 
that  the  darkness  should  settle  first  on  his  face. 

It  was  very  late  before  I  was  put  to  bed,  and  I  fell 
immediately  into  a  deep  sleep,  from  which,  however,  I 
at  last  woke  with  a  violent  start  and  with  all  my 
senses  in  full  activity.  A  candle  was  burning  in  the 
room,  and  this  of  itself  was  so  surprising  a  thing 
to  me,  who  always  slept  in  the  dark,  that  I  sat  up  in- 
stantly to  investigate  the  matter.  I  became  conscious 
that  there  was  a  mysterious  movement  in  the  house. 
I  heard  the  rustling  of  dresses,  doors  quietly  opening 

29 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


and  shutting,  and  my  father's  voice  in  a  low  tone,  in 
conversation  with  another  voice  which  it  was  strange 
to  hear  in  the  night.  "  Why/'  thought  I,  "  there  'a 
Dr.  Savage/' 

Just  then  nurse  came  in  eagerly  but  gently,  and 
began  to  look  for  something  in  a  drawer. 

"  Is  the  baby  worse,  Mary  ?  "  I  inquired. 

Mary  wiped  her  eyes  on  her  apron,  she  did  not 
seem  astonished  at  my  being  awake,  but  she  told  me, 
with  her  usual  air  of  authority,  to  "  lie  still  and  go  to 
sleep  again/'  and  that  the  doctor  said  "  baby  would 
not  live  till  morning/'  She  then  hastened  away. 

My  power  of  feeling  had  been  exhausted  the  pre- 
vious evening,  and,  strange  to  say,  it  was  my  imagi- 
nation which  was  most  affected  by  what  Mary  had 
told  me;  undefined  ideas  floated  before  my  mind. 
"What  is  death?"  I  thought.  "Does  the  baby  know 
what  is  happening  to  him  ?  Is  God  perhaps  waiting 
for  him  at  the  front  door,  or  would  he  send  an  angel 
instead?  Perhaps  Dr.  Savage's  horse  sees  the  angel 
just  as  Balaam's  ass  did."  I  looked  down  upon 
little  Anne,  who  slept  tranquilly  by  my  side. 


THE    POOR    LITTLE    BABY. 


"  O,  Anne,  Anne,  Anne/'  thought  I,  "  how  little 
you  know  —  "  What  it  was  that  she  did  not  know 
I  could  not  have  told,  I  only  dimly  imagined.  I  fell 
back  upon  the  pillow,  and  the  thought  came  over  me 
that  God  might  be  waiting  in  our  very  room.  I  had 
been  taught  that  He  was  always  about  us;  now  I 
realized  His  presence,  and  shivered  at  the  grandeur 
jof  the  idea.  In  the  midst  of  my  exaltation  I 
dropped  asleep. 

When  I  awoke  it  was  Sunday  morning,  the  room 
was  full  of  sunshine,  and  not  a  breath  of  air  stirred 
the  slender  honeysuckle  branches  which  were  trained 
over  the  window.  The  few  winter  birds  had  fin- 
ished their  morning  songs,  and  it  was  not  yet  time 
for  the  sound  of  church-bells.  It  was  wonderfully 
still  without  and  within.  "  It  is  because  God  has 
gone,  and  taken  our  baby  with  him,"  I  thought,  and 
a  deep  solemnity  took  possession  of  me.  Little  Anne 
was  still  asleep ;  she  had  not  stirred  since  I  last 
looked  upon  her  by  candlelight.  I  glanced  round 
the  room,  everything  was  as  usual,  even  to  our  Sun- 
day clothes  placed  in  order  on  the  chairs.  "  Ought 

31 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


we  to  wear  our  best  frocks  now  our  baby  is  dead  ?  "  I 
thought. 

I  lay  quite  still  till  Mary  entered  noiselessly.  Her 
face  was  quite  enough.  I  knew  what  had  happened, 
though  I  asked  no  question,  spoke  no  word,  and  the 
business  of  dressing  passed  in  perfect  silence.  When 
the  last  curl  had  been  rolled  over  Mary's  finger,  she 
said,  "  Your  mamma  wants  to  see  you  in  her  room, 
the  baby  is  dead." 

Mary  led  me  to  my  mother's  chamber,  and  left  me 
at  the  open  door.  The  heavy  mahogany  cradle  stood 
in  the  middle  of  the  room,  and  in  it  was  laid  a 
beautiful  waxen  image  of  our  baby.  The  curtains 
were  down  at  the  windows,  the  blinds  drawn;  it 
seemed  as  if  the  darkness  which  had  settled  first  upon 
his  face  the  past  evening  was  loath  to  leave  him, 
and  hung  about  him  last.  My  mother  sat  on  one 
side  of  the  cradle,  my  father  on  the  other.  He  was 
in  deep  black,  she  in  pure  white.  I  saw  all  this  at  a 
glance.  Mamma  held  out  her  hand  to  me,  her  face 
was  swollen  with  weeping,  yet  there  was  nothing  sad 
about  it,  it  was  full  of  resignation.  I  advanced  as 

?2 


THE    POOR    LITTLE    BABY. 


if  weights  were  attached  to  my  feet,  but  the  moment 
she  touched  me,  a  rush  of  feeling  swept  over  me,  and 
I  wept  a  flood  of  tears.  Mamma  talked  to  me  cheer- 
fully as  I  leaned  against  her,  and  told  me  that  our 
baby  suffered  no  more,  he  was  happy  with  God ;  she 
tried  to  make  me  comprehend  the  difference  between 
body  and  soul.  I  was  secretly  conscious  that  she 
was  endeavoring  to  make  the  idea  of  death  pleasant 
to  me.  She  wished  me  to  kiss  the  cold  face  and 
touch  the  cold  hand,  that  I  might  lose  my  dread  of 
a  corpse.  I  knew  her  object,  though  I  had  no  dread. 
I  believed  all  she  told  me,  but  still  I  thought  it  was 
a  pity  that  God  had  set  his  heart  on  the  baby  when 
there  were  three  girls  to  choose  from.  Little  Anne 
was  brought  in,  and  Mary  put  her  down  by  my  side ; 
she  looked  at  the  baby,  and  then  her  eyes  slowly 
turned  first  upon  mother,  then  upon  father,  next 
upon  me,  and  finally  back  again  to  the  cradle.  "We 
must  not  make  any  noise  till  he  wakes  up/'  she 
whispered,  and  went  out  of  the  room  on  tiptoe  to 
find  her  playthings. 

For  two  days  my  little  brother  continued  to  stay 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


with  us,  lying  in  his  coffin,  which  was  placed  in  the 
best  chamber  of  the  house,  a  very  neat  and  a  very 
white  room.  The  curtains  and  coverings  were  white, 
and  a  tall  white  bed  stood  in  a  corner  with  curtains 
that  looked  to  me  like  clouds.  On  the  mantel-piece 
there  were  two  tumblers,  full  of  purple  and  yellow 
amaranthus.  I  remembered  how  Mrs.  Mason,  our 
old  landlady,  had  gone  stooping  about  the  garden  one 
windy  day  of  the  last  autumn,  picking  them  from 
under  the  dead  leaves,  and  groaning  a  little  over 
each  one  because  every  stoop  cost  her  a  twinge  of 
rheumatism.  They  had  blossomed  about  the  time  of 
our  baby's  birth,  but,  frail  as  they  looked,  they  had 
outlived  him. 

It  was  February,  but  already  a  few  snowdrops  and 
pale  crocuses  were  shivering  on  their  delicate  stems 
in  the  grass-plot  before  the  house.  Mamma  made  us 
gather  some  of  them  and  strew  them  over  the  baby's 
breast,  which  was  as  white  and  cold  as  the  wreaths  of 
snow  among  which  they  had  bloomed  into  chilly  life. 
And  at  last  a  carriage  with  white  horses  took  my 
father  and  mother  and  the  little  coffin  away  to  the 

34 


THE    POOR    LITTLE    BABY. 


churchyard.  I  saw  it  drive  off  with  a  sharp  pang  at 
my  heart,  but,  child  as  I  was,  I  soon  forgot  it  in 
looking,  with  Anne,  at  the  pictures  in  "  Buffon's 
Natural  History,"  which  was  opened  for  us  upon 
the  sofa. 

The  next  summer  we  were  to  leave  England  for 
America.  As  the  time  of  our  departure  drew  near 
there  was  of  course  a  great  deal  of  bustle  and  excite- 
ment; people  came  and  went,  orders  were  given, 
boxes  packed,  consultations  held.  Anne  and  I  played 
out  doors  all  day  long,  and  everybody  who  was  to 
stay  behind  did  all  that  was  possible  to  spoil  us, 
because  we  were  going  away.  We  had  no  lessons, 
and  our  felicity  was  only  interrupted  by  the  necessity 
of  trying  on  a  great  many  new  frocks,  during  which 
process  I  have  no  doubt  we  tried  the  patience  of  the 
dressmaker  even  more  than  she  did  ours. 

One  afternoon,  just  before  we  sailed,  mamma  sent 
us  with  Mary  to  the  churchyard,  that  we  might  see  for 
the  last  time  the  place  where  our  little  brother  was 
laid.  We  were  full  of  spirits,  and  went  skipping  and 
shouting  along  the  lanes  till  we  were  quite  tired  out 

35 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


at  last,  and  quite  ready,  when  we  reached  the  church- 
yard, to  stand  silently  by  Mary's  side  and  look  down 
upon  the  baby's  grave.  A  large  flat  stone  covered  it, 
and  while  I  was  trying  to  spell  out  the  inscription 

"  Samuel,  only  son  of  Samuel  and  Mehi table  G 

Born Died "  it  suddenly  grew  very  dark, 

and  when  I  looked  up  I  saw  a  great  black  cloud 
hovering  directly  over  us.  I  remembered  that  it  had 
followed  us  all  the  way  from  home,  and  I  thought  it 
was  remarkable  that  it  should  stop  just  when  we  did. 
"  Mary,"  said  I,  "  I  dare  say  that  cloud  is  going 
to  America  just  as  we  are,  and  it  has  come  to  bid 
my  little  brother  good  by  before  it  flies  over  the 
water."  Just  then  a  few  great  drops  fell  heavily 
upon  the  gravestone.  "See,  Mary,"  I  cried,  "it 
sheds  tears  for  our  baby."  And  I  was  secretly 
mortified  and  ashamed  of  myself  that  I  could  not 
weep  too.  I  kneeled  down  upon  the  marble  slab, 
and  by  a  sort  of  clairvoyance  I  seemed  to  look 
through  it,  down,  down  under  the  earth  to  where  my 
little  brother  was  lying,  pale,  beautiful,  and  quiet, 
with  the  snowdrops  still  drooping  on  his  breast. 


III. 

TWO   LUMPS   OF  SUGAR. 
WONDEB  if  all  children  dislike  their  nur- 


sery as    I   did    mine?     The  word 
always  makes  me   think  of  the  great  big  room  at 

the  very  top  of  our  house  at  M ,  covered  with  a 

faded  carpet,  which,  having  first  adorned  the  drawing- 
room  and  then  my  mother's  chamber,  had  finally 
mounted  to  the  third  floor,  where  it  enjoyed  a  thread- 
bare old  age,  and  found  itself  daily  strewn  with 
battered  dolls,  broken  tea-sets,  torn  books,  carts 
without  wheels,  and  horses  without  legs.  This  room 
was  also  a  sort  of  hospital  for  decayed  furniture, 
and  there  was  quite  a  large  army  of  veteran  chairs 
and  tables,  whose  limbs  we  children  were  allowed 
to  amputate  at  pleasure.  No  sooner  did  we  enter 
the  house  from  school  than  Mary  was  directed  to 
take  us  "right  up  to  the  nursery,  where  we  could 

37 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


make  as  much  noise  as  we  chose ! "  As  if  there 
could  be  any  pleasure  in  making  a  noise  on  such 
easy  terms !  So  in  the  nursery  we  passed  our  days, 
strictly  forbidden  to  go  "  down  stairs  "  on  any  pre- 
text. This  injunction  of  mamma's  was  a  very  wise 
one;  she  did  not  wish  us  to  play  with  the  ser- 
vants, about  whose  characters  she  knew  nothing, 
and  she  thought  it  right  to  accustom  us  to  some 
restraint,  and  not  allow  the  whole  house  to  be  dis- 
turbed by  our  noise  and  restlessness.  She  pro- 
vided us  with  plenty  of  playthings;  we  went  to 
school,  and  walked  daily  in  the  "  Infirmary  Gar- 
dens." We  had  sufficient  variety,  and  I  ought  to 
have  been  contented ;  but  Easselas  grew  tired  of  the 
Happy  Valley,  and  /  grew  tired  of  my  nursery. 
"Down  stairs"  gradually  grew  into  my  ideal  of 
Paradise  :  it  was  from  "  down  stairs "  that  Betty 
the  cook  used  to  send  me  magnificent  yellow  char- 
iots, cut  out  of  huge  carrot,  with  round  slices  of 
the  same  for  wheels ;  from  "  down  stairs "  as- 
cended at  five  o'clock  fragrant  odors  of  dinner  and 
a  cheerful  sound  of  laughing  and  talking  whenever 


TWO     LUMPS     OF     SUGAR. 


the  dining-room  door  was  open ;  from  "down  stairs " 
rousing  knocks  at  the  front  door  announced  ladies 
in  rustling  silks  and  waving  plumes,  who  came  to 
visit  mamma ;  the  hall  lamp  "  down  stairs  "  glowed 
like  a  sun,  and  dazzled  my  eyes  when  I  peeped  over 
the  banisters ;  even  puss  ran  away  from  us  when- 
ever she  could,  and  scampered  "  down  stairs."  I 
did  not  blame  her ;  I  myself  lingered  there  always 
as  long  as  possible  on  my  way  from  a  walk  or 
from  school.  I  admired  everything  there  :  the  ma- 
hogany stand  in  the  entry,  from  whose  branches 
coats  and  hats  seemed  to  be  growing,  while  canes 
and  umbrellas  sprouted  from  its  feet ;  the  oval  din- 
ner-table, which  the  housemaid  was  often  setting 
towards  evening,  where  the  candles  shone  so  brightly 
upon  the  snowy  cloth ;  the  silver  and  glass,  and  the 
decanters  of  port  and  sherry,  whose  colors  were  as 
bright  as  the  purple  and  crimson  jars  at  the  chem- 
ist's round  the  corner.  Everybody  drank  wine  in 
those  days.  Ask  your  grandfathers,  my  little  chil- 
dren, if  they  do  not  remember  how  it  sparkled  by 
candlelight  when  they  went  to  dine  with  their  old 

39 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


friends,  and  sang  songs  and  told  stories  and  pro- 
posed old-fashioned  toasts.  Yes,  even  the  distant 
sound  of  Betty  poking  the  kitchen  fire  was  pleas- 
ant to  me  as  I  lingered  "  down  stairs/'  Above  all, 
it  was  the  region  which  mamma  inhabited,  and 
which  she  adorned  by  her  graceful  presence.  We 
were  very  proud  of  our  mamma ;  she  was  acknowl- 
edged to  be  the  "handsomest  mother  in  school," 
as  my  schoolfellows  used  to  express  it. 

Sometimes,  when  there  was  company  at  dinner, 
little  Anne  and  I  were  sent  for  to  come  down  when 
dessert  was  carried  in.  On  such  occasions  Mary 
would  curl  our  hair  in  precisely  the  same  number 
of  curls,  pull  the  bows  of  our  sashes  out  very  wide, 
charge  us  not  to  turn  in  our  toes,  and  to  be  sure 
and  walk  into  the  room  hand  in  hand.  Some  gen- 
tleman guest  generally  took  us,  one  on  each  knee, 
trotted  us  to  London  and  back,  gave  us  raisins,  in 
spite  of  mamma's  anxious  looks,  and  perhaps  in- 
cited us  to  be  so  boisterous  that  we  were  finally 
despatched  in  disgrace  up  stairs  again,  and  put  to 
bed  "out  of  hand/'  as  Mary  used  to  say. 

40 


TWO    LUMPS    OF    SUGAR. 


I  remember  one  wet  Sunday  evening,  when  I  had 
been  all  day  in  the  nursery  and  was  more  than  usu- 
ally anxious  to  go  "down  stairs/'  more  fretful  and 
cross  than  was  customary,  so  that  Mary  exhorted, 
remonstrated,  scolded,  finally  assuring  me  that  I  was 
the  most  troublesome  child  she  ever  saw,  —  which 
I  dare  say  was  true.  At  length,  as  a  last  resort, 
she  called  me  up  to  her,  and  whispered  that  if  I 
would  be  good,  she  would  show  me  something  beau- 
tiful after  the  children  were  put  to  bed.  Her  mys- 
terious air  fired  my  imagination,  and  I  became 
"good"  at  once,  and  desperately  anxious  to  assist 
her  in  undressing  the  little  ones.  How  impatiently 
I  watched  her  as  she  rocked  Lucretia  to  sleep  in  a 
low  rocking-chair  with  a  drowsy  creak,  singing 
through  the  five  long  hymns  without  which  "Miss 
Lucretia  never  got  sound"  You  may  be  sure  I 
held  my  breath,  and  would  have  stopped  the  beating 
of  my  heart  had  I  been  able,  during  the  ticklish 
process  of  laying  Miss  Lucretia's  head  on  the  pillow, 
when  she  was  very  apt  to  wake  up  again  and  cry  for 
the  repetition  of  a  dozen  verses  at  least !  At  length, 

41 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


the  room  being  still,  the  fire  renewed,  the  hearth 
swept,  Mary  took  the  candle  and  went  down  stairs, 
promising  still,  in  a  whisper,  to  show  me  the  beauti- 
ful something  when  she  should  return  from  her  tea. 

Left  alone  in  the  nursery  with  the  dim  red  fire- 
light, I  fell  into  a  very  grave  mood.  Fantastic 
shadows  flickered  along  the  walls  as  if  they  had 
taken  advantage  of  Mary's  absence  to  come  out 
and  warm  themselves.  A  gentle  rain  and  wind 
struck  the  windows  lightly,  as  if  some  sorrowful, 
weeping,  sighing  spirit  were  quietly  trying  to  undo 
the  fastening,  and  come  in  to  warm  itself  also.  I 
stared  into  the  fire,  and  the  whirling  smoke  carried 
my  childish  fancy  with  it,  up,  up,  I  did  not  know 
where,  but  I  was  completely  absorbed  in  wondering 
about  it,  and  very  happy  when  Mary  came  back 
with  the  candle  and  a  thick  gilt  book  in  her  hand. 
She  opened  it  at  a  place  marked  by  a  rich  watered 
ribbon,  and  with  something  quite  solemn  and  ex- 
pectant in  her  manner,  laid  it  upon  my  knee.  It 
was  a  picture  of  little  Samuel  kneeling  in  his  bed 
with  clasped  hands  and  upward  look,  and  Mary 

42 


TWO    LUMPS    OF    SUGAR. 


read  to  me  in  a  low  voice  the  verse  printed  under- 
neath, "  Speak,  Lord,  for  thy  servant  heareth."  I 
was  completely  fascinated  by  this  picture,  and  gazed 
fixedly  upon  it;  in  the  uncertain  firelight  close  to 
which  I  held  it  the  features  seemed  to  change  ex- 
pression and  the  lips  to  move.  Mary  thought  me  in 
a  promising  mood,  and  as  she  was  a  pious  girl  she 
tried  in  her  simple  way  to  explain  the  story  of  Sam- 
uel. I  understood  her  literally,  and  was  very  much 
interested  in  the  fact  that  God  called  not  only  Sam- 
uel, but  all  little  children  as  young  as  Samuel,  if  they 
paid  attention  and  listened  for  his  voice.  If  they  did, 
she  emphatically  added  that  they  "would  be  good 
forevermore."  I  pondered  long  over  this,  wonder- 
ing how  it  happened  that  I,  a  very  light  sleeper, 
who  waked  up  instantly  if  our  cat  mewed,  or  a 
mouse  squeaked  ever  so  slightly,  should  never  have 
heard  in  the  night  that  extraordinary  sound,  the 
voice  of  God !  I  was  resolving  to  be  more  attentive 
in  future,  when  a  dreadful  thought  occurred  to  me. 
"  Mary,"  said  I,  "  how  old  was  Samuel  when  God 
called  him  ?  " 

43 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


Mary  was  putting  new  shoe-strings  into  our  shoes, 
to  be  ready  for  the  walk  to  school  next  day  :  "  I 
disremember,"  she  answered  shortly,  and  then,  look- 
ing at  the  picture  with  a  puzzled  face,  she  added, 
"  Four  years  old,  there  or  thereabouts,  I  should  say, 
miss,  by  looking  at  his  curls  and  his  nightgown." 

Yes,  it  was  as  I  feared;  Samuel  was  only  four 
years  old,  while  I  was  six,  —  too  old  to  be  called  of 
God ;  I  had  not  listened  for  his  voice  at  the  right 
time,  and  now  it  was  too  late !  I  was  very  indig- 
nant with  Mary  for  not  telling  me  all  this  long  ago, 
and  a  pang  of  disappointment  shot  through  me, 
followed  by  a  reflection  which,  I  am  sorry  to  say, 
comforted  me  a  little ;  as  I  had  not  been  "  called " 
I  was  not  obliged  "  to  be  good  forevermore." 

I  suppose  Mary  was  pleased  at  seeing  me  so 
quietly  and  thoughtfully  pondering  over  her  words, 
as  I  sat  in  my  little  chair  by  the  nursery  fire,  for, 
after  she  had  finished  putting  in  new  lacings  to  our 
shoes,  and  set  them  side  by  side  under  the  edge  of 
the  bureau,  with  a  clean  pair  of  socks  laid  upon 
each,  she  said,  "  And  now,  miss,  I  '11  read  you  some- 

44 


TWO     LUMPS     OF     SUGAB. 


thing."  She  produced  from  her  box  a  tract  with 
crumpled  leaves,  which  she  smoothed  on  her  knee, 
as  she  told  me  it  was  all  about  a  very  little  girl 
named  Martha,  who  was  called  of  God  in  her  cradle, 
and  who  died  when  she  was  younger  than  I.  Poor 
Mary,  she  would  have  been  shocked  had  she  known 
what  was  the  only  clear  idea  I  received  from  all 
her  simple  talk,  that  I  was  too  old  to  begin  to  be 
good,  and  that  it  was  of  no  use  to  try,  since  I 
had  not  been  "called"  in  proper  time.  I  went  to 
bed  in  despair,  and  with  a  feeling  of  great  dislike 
to  the  more  fortunate  Samuel  and  Martha;  luckily 
at  six  years  one  sleeps  off  despair  and  dislike.  I 
only  remember  one  of  the  anecdotes  which  Mary 
read  to  me  concerning  little  Martha  of  the  tract, 
on  that  Sunday  evening.  She  was  a  very  poor 
child,  to  whom  a  bun  was  a  great  treat,  but  some- 
body once  gave  her  one,  and  in  a  transport  of 
pious  self-denial  she  ventured  into  the  street  and 
offered  it  to  the  first  person  she  met.  This  person 
chanced  to  be  a  lady  carrying  a  small  basket  in  her 
hand,  out  of  which  she  produced  two  Queen-cakes, 

45 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


which  she  gave  Martha  in  exchange  for  her  bun. 
I  resolved  that  I  would  some  day  imitate  this  act 
of  virtue  on  Martha's  part ;  it  would  not  be  too 
difficult  even  for  one  who  had  not  been  "  called/' 
and  I  did  so  after  this  fashion. 

Every  summer  a  great  fair  was  held  in  M , 

and,  as  we  were  always  living  in  the  country  at 
that  season,  an  old  bachelor  friend  of  my  father's 
once  begged  permission  to  take  me  to  the  city 
during  the  fair,  and  show  me  all  its  sights.  I  was 
six  years  old,  as  my  mother  reminded  me,  when 
she  straightened  the  bows  of  my  sash,  and  tied  on 
my  hat,  in  preparation  for  this  great  event,  —  too  old 
to  disgrace  my  family  by  putting  my  elbows  on 
the  table,  or  kicking  the  "  rungs "  of  my  chair,  for 
I  was  to  dine  with  good  Mr.  Swan  at  his  bachelor 
lodgings  in  M I  was  in  an  agony  of  impa- 
tience, for  he  was  waiting  for  me  at  the  door  in  his 
gig,  but  my  mother  would  not  let  me  go  till  she  had 
carefully  smoothed  on  every  finger  of  my  gloves, 
pinned  one  clean  handkerchief  to  my  side,  as  we 
were  not  allowed  pockets,  and  concealed  another  in 

4G 


TWO    LUMPS    OF    SUGAR. 


the  bosom  of  my  frock,  "  in  case  of  nose-bleed,"  she 
said,  for  her  previsions  were  wonderful ;  at  the  same 
time  giving  me  a  long  list  of  directions  for  my 
behavior,  something  after  this  style :  — 

What  to  do.  What  not  to  do. 

Always  to  say  "Please"  and  Not  to  say  "I  don't  like  tur- 

"  Thank  you,"  at  table,  and  nip,"  if  any  was  put  on  my 

plate. 

To  eat  what  was  put  on  my  Not  to  take  large  mouthfuls. 

plate  without  remark. 

To  keep  tight  hold  of  Mr.  Not  to  stand  on  the  outside  of 

Swan's  hand  in  the  streets.  my  feet. 

To  wash  my  face  and  hands  Not  to  let  a  thief  snatch  away 

after  eating.  my  handkerchief. 

To    lay  my  hat  down  in  a  Not  to  ask  Mr.  Swan  to  buy 

clean  place.  me  anything  at  the  Fair, 

To  pull  up  my  socks  when  but  not  to  forget  to  thank 

necessary.  him  if  he  did. 

Generally. 
Not  to  be  troublesome. 

All  the  events  of  this  day  are  impressed  on  my 
memory,  as  it  was  the  first  I  ever  spent  away  from 
my  mother  and  the  children. 

What  a  day  it  was !     On  looking  back  to  it,  it 

47 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


seems  to  have  been  a  week  long,  at  least.  We  made 
first  a  tour  of  the  stalls  which  lined  the  streets,  and 
poor  Mr.  Swan  must  have  had  a  hard  time  of  it  in 
pulling  me  along,  for,  0,  how  fascinating  they  were  ! 
What  a  delicious  smell  of  varnish  from  the  cheap 
toys ;  how  I  longed  to  take  "  between  my  two 
motherly  arms  "  all  the  dolls  in  pink  and  blue  glazed 
cambric ;  how  I  longed  to  stop  and  work  the  little 
churns,  and  set  out  the  little  tea-sets,  and  draw  up 
and  down  the  lambs  on  wheels  !  How  I  trembled 
with  excitement  when  Mr.  Swan  showed  symptoms 
of  noticing  any  particular  toy,  I  was  so  hoping  he 
would  buy  something  for  me  !  I  had  to  bite  my  lips 
in  order  to  obey  mamma's  injunction  not  to  ask  him 
to  do  so.  At  last,  probably  noticing  my  anxious 
face,  he  took  up  a  toy  windmill,  evidently  with  the 
intention  of  investing  a  penny  therein  for  my  benefit, 
when  lo  !  the  vanes  came  out  in  his  hand,  as  he  tried 
to  whirl  them.  This  seemed  to  me  such  a  dreadful 
accident  that  I  did  not  wonder  at  the  clamor  set  up 
by  the  woman  who  kept  the  stall.  ."There,  take 
your  penny/'  said  Mr.  Swan,  handing  her  that  coin 

48 


TWO     LUMPS    OF    SUGAR. 


and  the  broken  windmill  together.  "  These  wretched 
toys  are  not  worth  buying,  my  dear/'  he  said  to  me ; 
"  you  don't  care  for  them,  do  you  ?  they  would  not 
hold  together  till  you  got  home/'  I  could  not  tell  a 
lie,  so  I  said  nothing ;  but  I  was  terribly  disap- 
pointed. I  thought  I  might  at  least  have  had  the 
broken  windmill  which  he  had  paid  for.  The  tears 
came  into  my  eyes ;  I  think  he  noticed  them,  because 
I  was  obliged  to  turn  my  head  so  awkwardly  in 
reaching  for  my  handkerchief  wherewith  to  wipe 
them  away. 

We  happened  to  be  just  passing  the  last  stall,  and 
Mr.  Swan,  casting  a  hurried  glance  around  at  the 
treasures  displayed  there,  hastily  produced  another 
penny,  and  purchased  for  me  a — fly-trap,  in  the 
shape  of  a  miniature  house  painted  yellow,  with  a  red 
roof,  a  green  chimney,  and  a  blue  door  which  slid  up 
and  down,  and  formed  one  end  of  the  house.  I 
understood  the  construction  of  this  artful  trap  in  a 
moment.  "  See,  O,  see,  Mr.  Swan,"  I  cried  joyfully, 
"  you  pull  up  the  door,  and  if  it  don't  stay,  you  can 
tie  it  to  the  chimney,  you  know  —  0, 1  forgot  —  if  you 

49 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


please  —  No,  thank  you  very  much  —  and  then  you 
put  a  bit  of  sugar  on  the  floor  inside,  and  when  the 
fly  walks  in  to  eat  it,  you  shut  down  the  door  as 
quick  as  a  wink.  O,  what  a  useful  thing !  so  much 
usefuller  to  have  than  just  a  plaything  only  to  play 
with,  • —  a  baby  plaything/''  I  added,  feeling  all  the 
dignity  of  my  six  years.  "  Our  flies  are  getting  to 
bother  us,  Mary  says,  and  I  can  catch  them  in  my 
trap,  and  help  mamma  very  much.  How  glad  she  will 
be,  when  she  sees  me  bringing  home  such  a  useful 
thing  ! " 

To  insure  the  safety  of  this  valuable  article,  Mr. 
Swan  put  the  fly-trap  into  his  pocket  to  carry  home 
for  me.  I  was  afraid  he  might  accidentally  sit  upon 
it  and  break  it,  and  I  wondered  if  it  would  be  polite 
in  me  to  remind  him  of  it,  if  I  saw  him  about  to 
seat  himself. 

Then  this  kind  friend  took  me  to  the  Menagerie ; 
it  was  WombwelFs  celebrated  Menagerie,  which  made 
a  yearly  progress  through  the  country  during  the 
season  of  fairs,  and  this  was  my  first  visit  thereto. 
Mr.  Swan  was  very  tall,  and  he  perched  me  upon  his 

50 


TWO     LUMPS     OF     SUGAR. 


shoulder,  so  that  I  could  gaze  into  the  very  eyes  of 
the  elephant,  and  look  down  upon  the  lions  and  tigers, 
while  other  children  were  pushing  their  way  to  the 
ropes  in  front  of  the  cages,  and  standing  on  tiptoe 
to  catch  a  glimpse  of  any  tawny  paws  and  noses  that 
might  be  thrust  between  the  bars.  And  what  ex- 
traordinary pockets  Mr.  Swan  had  !  If  he  was  tall, 
they  were  long,  and  as  inexhaustible  as  his  good- 
nature. He  had  nuts  for  the  monkeys,  apples  for  the 
elephant,  bits  of  sugar  for  the  gazelle,  buns  for 
the  bears  and  for  me ;  moreover,  he  let  me  give  these 
nice  things  to  the  animals  all  myself,  and  even  when 
the  elephant  felt  in  all  his  pockets  for  broken  biscuit 
in  the  most  coaxing  way,  he  would  not  give  him  a 
bit,  handing  up  to  me  every  fragment  instead;  for 
which  I  made  a  sort  of  table  out  of  the  top  of  his  hat. 
I  thought  this  self-denial  of  Mr.  Swan's  more  wonder- 
ful than  anything  Martha  of  the  tract  had  ever  done. 
The  two  famous  lions,  Wallace  and  Nero,  were  in 
this  Menagerie.  When  we  stopped  in  front  of  their 
cages,  I  bent  my  ear  down  towards  Mr.  Swan's  chin, 
uplifted  sideways,  that  I  might  listen  to  the  story  he 

51 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


told  me  of  these  lions  being  once  forced  by  sporting 
men  to  fight  with  bull-dogs.  Wallace,  who  was  very 
savage,  killed  all  Us  dogs  easily,  but  Nero  refused 
to  hurt  those  who  attacked  him,  contenting  himself 
with  just  keeping  them  at  a  distance  with  long 
sweeps  of  his  huge  paws.  My  heart  warmed  to 
Nero  as  he  lay  asleep  in  his  cage,  making  a  pillow  of 
his  mane,  that  looked  as  amiable  as  if  it  had  been 
made  of  ringlets,  while  Wallace,  next  door,  was 
grumbling  to  himself  in  short  snaps  and  snarls.  In 
a  few  moments  a  keeper  entered  Nero's  cage,  and 
began  to  tease  the  poor  tired  creature  by  shaking  his 
paws,  pulling  his  ears,  and  stretching  open  his  eyes 
and  mouth,  which  made  the  wondering  crowd  do  the 
same  as  they  stood  looking  on.  Then  the  keeper 
stepped  upon  the  prostrate  body,  as  if  it  had  been 
a  platform,  and  made  a  speech  which  I  could  n't 
understand,  the  words  seemed  longer  and  harder  than 
any  I  had  yet  come  to  in  my  spelling-book.  Then 
he  got  down  again,  and  threw  open  the  cage  door, 
and  after  some  hesitation  a  man  and  woman  came 
up  out  of  the  crowd,  and,  entering  the  cage,  took 

52 


TWO    LUMPS    OF    SUGAR. 


seats  on  the  lion's  body  as  if  it  were  a  sofa.  Then 
I  remember  that  my  heart  began  to  beat  suddenly 
and  violently,  for  Mr.  Swan  asked  me  if  I  would  like 
to  do  the  same,  and  then  I  was  somehow  lifted  and 
carried  and  handed  about,  and  at  last  felt  myself, 
I  hardly  know  how,  sitting  on  the  warm  spring-seat 
of  the  lion's  back,  which  went  up  and  clown,  up  and 
down,  like  clock-work  under  my  light  weight.  I 
was  alone  in  the  cage,  for  the  keeper  had  withdrawn 
for  a  moment  to  heighten  the  effect  of  the  tableau, 
and  the  people  outside  clapped  and  hurrahed.  I 
recollect  venturing  to  pat  the  lion  with  a  very  small 
hand,  which  I  suppose  he  scarcely  felt ;  and,  finding 
him  so  quiet,  I  wiped  a  little  place  on  his  warm  side 
with  my  handkerchief,  and  stooped  to  kiss  it.  There 
was  another  burst  of  cheering  and  clapping,  and  then 
I  found  myself  walking  away  again  on  Mr.  Swan's 
shoulder. 

He  must  have  had  quite  enough  of  me  by  this 
time,  for  I  recollect  playing  quietly  in  the  kitchen 
through  the  afternoon,  with  Mrs.  Airy  the  landlady ; 
she  had  flying  cap-strings  and  curls,  and  a  breezy  way 

63 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


of  running  back  and  forth  between  the  range  and  the 
dresser,  which  made  her  name  very  appropriate.  She 
was  making  cake,  and  as  I  believe  I  had  never  eaten 
a  piece  of  cake  in  my  life,  the  very  smell  of  it,  as  it 
was  baking,  was  a  feast.  Mrs.  Airy's  was  an  area- 
kitchen,  and  a  flight  of  steps  led  from  the  doorway 
up  into  the  street.  I  amused  myself  by  standing  on 
these  steps  with  my  eyes  at  a  level  with  the  sidewalk, 
and  imagining  how  the  world  must  look  to  such 
short-legged  creatures  as  dogs  and  cats ;  then,  return- 
ing to  the  kitchen,  I  stood  upon  a  chair,  and  tried 
to  get  Mrs.  Airy's  point  of  view  by  making  myself  as 
tall  as  she  was.  I  was  already  tired  of  my  fly-trap, 
for  I  did  not  know  what  to  do  with  the  flies  after  I 
had  caught  them,  and  they  hurt  my  feelings  by  buzz- 
ing inside  to  be  let  out.  I  determined  to  turn  it  into 
a  summer-house  for  our  gardens,  and  keep  the  door 
permanently  tied  to  the  chimney. 

I  had  never  been  allowed  to  stay  in  the  kitchen  at 
home,  and  I  suppose  I  troubled  Mrs.  Airy  extremely 
by  asking,  like  Miss  Edgeworth's  Frank,  all  sorts  of 
questions  about  the  simplest  kitchen-furniture  which 

54 


TWO     LUMPS     OF     SUGAR. 


I  saw  there  for  the  first  time.  At  last  she  gave  me  a 
bunch  of  raisins,  and  told  me  to  go  to  the  top  of  the 
steps  and  eat  them,  while  I  might  also  be  watching 
for  Mr.  Swan  to  appear  with  his  horse  and  gig  to 
take  me  home.  Hardly  had  I  taken  my  seat  on  the 
top  step  when  I  saw  a  poor  woman  coming  slowly 
along,  and  with  a  covered  basket  on  her  arm.  In- 
stantly I  thought  of  Martha  of  the  tract;  here  was 
my  opportunity,  I  would  give  this  poor  woman  my 
bunch  of  raisins,  and  probably  get  in  exchange,  out 
of  her  basket,  something  I  liked  much  better.  No 
sooner  thought  than  done.  As  the  woman  passed  me, 
I  jumped  up  and  offered  her  my  raisins,  saying,  as 
sweetly  as  I  knew  how,  "  Here  is  something  for  you." 
The  woman  looked  surprised,  but  she  took  the  raisins, 
and  in  a  whining  voice  she  drawled  out,  "  May  the 
Saints  be  your  bed,  my  purty  dear,"  and  popped  them 
into  her  basket,  but  alas!  without  offering  me  any- 
thing in  return.  Indeed,  there  seemed  to  be  nothing  in 
the  basket  but  scraps  of  dry  bread  and  cold  potatoes. 
I  stood  indignant,  after  the  woman  had  walked  off, 
feeling  that  I  had  been  cheated  out  of  my  raisins, 

55 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


and  much  disposed  to  cry  about  it,  till  it  suddenly 
occurred  to  me  to  go  down  and  tell  Mrs.  Airy  what 
I  had  done.  She  would  think  me  so  good,  as  good 
perhaps  as  Martha  of  the  tract,  and  would  probably 
give  me  some  more  raisins  at  least,  perhaps  something 
even  nicer.  So  down  I  went  to  Mrs.  Airy,  who 
was  sitting  in  a  rush-bottomed  chair,  with  her  floury 
elbow  on  the  pie-board,  deep  in  the  perusal  of  the 
Cookery-Book.  As  she  did  not  seem  to  notice  me,  I 
was  obliged  to  speak  first.  "  What  do  you  think  I 
have  done  ?  "  I  said. 

"  Not  torn  your  frock,  nor  lost  your  handkerchief, 
I  hope,"  she  answered  in  quick  alarm. 

"  0,  no,"  I  said,  with  a  smile  of  conscious  virtue, 
"  no  indeed,  but  —  I  have  given  away  my  raisins  to  a 
poor  woman." 

"  Dear  me,  what  made  you  do  that  ? "  said  Mrs. 
Airy,  getting  up  from  her  chair,  and  walking  away. 

"  Now  she  is  going  to  the  closet  to  get  me  some- 
thing nice,"  I  thought  to  myself,  and  I  added  aloud, 
"  Yes,  all,  every  one, — every —  single  — one."  Mrs. 
Airy  by  this  time  had  reached  the  kitchen-sink. 

56 


TWO    LUMPS    OF    SUGAR. 


"  Won't  you  come  and  pump  for  me,  there 's  a 
good  child,  and  I  '11  just  wash  my  hands  and  arms 
here/'  she  said.  I  jumped  up  with  alacrity,  thinking 
that  she  was  washing  her  hands  with  the  intention 
of  rewarding  me  from  her  store  of  goodies.  Impa- 
tiently I  waited  while  she  wiped  them  on  the  kitchen 
roller,  and  then  —  she  turned  about  and  walked  up 
stairs.  In  short,  I  got  nothing  by  the  loss  of  my 
raisins  except  perhaps  a  good  night's  rest,  for  prob- 
ably they  would  have  given  me  the  nightmare  if  I 
had  eaten  them. 

To  return  to  the  nursery,  from  which  I  have  wan- 
dered a  good  way.  Its  windows  looked  out  upon  a 
desolate  wilderness  of  house-tops ;  the  roofs  and  stacks 
of  chimneys  grouped  about  in  confusion  reminded 
me  of  the  appearance  of  cities  after  they  had  been 
shaken  by  earthquakes,  as  I  had  heard  the  children  at 
school  describe  them,  out  of  their  geography  lessons. 
Nothing  appeared  on  these  roofs  but  cats  and  spar- 
rows, watching  each  other  furtively,  and  sometimes  a 
mason  in  a  paper  cap  who  worked  on  the  chimneys, 
or  the  occasional  apparition  of  a  man's  head  popping 

57 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


up  from  a  scuttle,  like  a  Jack  in  a  box.  I  soon  got 
tired  of  scanning  the  house-tops,  and  found  it  more 
interesting  to  look  down  into  the  yards  below.  A 
certain  poor  woman  used  to  come  into  our  yard  daily, 
a  wretchedly  poor  woman,  all  skin  and  bone,  with  a 
faded  rag  of  a  petticoat,  barefooted,  and  witli  the 
remnant  of  a  shawl  over  her  tangled  hair,  and  she 
brought  with  her  always  a  skeleton  baby,  with  claw- 
fingers  like  a  little  bird's  foot ;  weak  and  thin  as  it 
was,  the  poor  mother  could  not  have  carried  it,  had 
it  been  any  heavier.  The  poor  woman  would  stand 
in  the  yard,  in  a  diffident,  doubtful  way,  as  if  ready 
to  vanish  at  a  word,  and  Betty,  the  cook,  would 
appear  with  such  "cold  victuals "  as  there  were  to 
spare.  With  the  deepest  interest  I  would  watch  the 
poor  woman's  trembling  hands,  as  she  rolled  the 
scraps  of  food  in  her  ragged  apron,  for  basket  or  bag 
she  had  none,  courtesy  ing  to  Betty  in  humble  thank- 
fulness. Then  my  beautiful  mother,  so  young  and 
blooming,  in  her  white  dress,  would  be  seen  walking 
slowly  along  from  the  kitchen,  carrying  a  glass  of 
milk  for  the  poor  baby.  The  wretched  little  thing 


TWO     LUMPS     OF     SUGAR. 


would  lift  its  head  from  its  mother's  bony  shoulder, 
and  stretch  out  those  two  claw-like  hands,  as  soon 
as  it  saw  the  milk.  And  when  once  it  had  raised  the 
glass  to  its  pale  mouth,  nothing  could  induce  it  to 
stop  drinking  till  every  drop  was  drained.  It  held 
the  cup  to  its  lips  with  all  the  strength  of  starva- 
tion. Sometimes  my  mother  let  me  come  down  and 
stand  by  her  side  and  look  at  this  poor  baby,  and 
never  shall  I  forget  the  heart-rending  tones  of  the 
poor  mother  when  she  made  her  invariable  speech  of 
thanks  to  my  mother  :  "  God  bless  you,  ma'am,  and 
may  you  never  want !  " 

I  happened  to  be  with  my  mother  on  the  day  when 
this  poor  woman  came  to  our  home  for  the  last  time 
before  we  left  England.  The  memory  of  her  grief, 
her  agony,  haunts  me  still.  Where  she  found  the 
flood  of  tears  she  shed,  in  her  poor  wasted  body,  I 
cannot  imagine.  Wringing  her  hands,  she  cried  out, 
over  and  over  again,  "  O  ma'am,  you  are  going 
away  !  Baby,  our  only  friend  is  going  away  !  —  0, 
what  shall  we  do,  what  shall  we  do  ?  We  shall 
starve  to  death,  baby,  we  shall  starve  to  death." 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


What  misery  existed  among  the  poor  of  England 
in  those  days ! 

Our  next  neighbor,  Mr.  Anthony,  had  a  very  large 
house  and  a  very  large  yard,  which  at  certain  times 
of  day  swarmed  with  children,  for  Mr.  Anthony  had 
fourteen  boys  and  girls,  as  near  of  an  age  as  they 
could  well  be.  I  soon  selected  my  favorite  from 
among  them,  a  little  girl  rather  older  than  myself, 
about  eight  or  nine  years  old,  whose  movements  I 
watched  with  great  interest ;  she  laughed  louder 
than  any  of  her  brothers  and  sisters,  climbed  higher, 
jumped  farther,  and  I  often  burst  into  involuntary 
loud  laughs,  myself,  at  some  of  her  gymnastics.  She 
was  so  handsome,  too,  I  thought;  as  painters  say, 
her  coloring  was  very  fine,  for  her  eyes,  her  hair, 
and  her  silk  apron  were  black,  and  her  lips,  cheeks, 
and  merino  frock  were  red.  I  teased  Mary  to  find 
out  for  me  what  her  name  was,  and  she  told  me  it 
was  Hem'ly,  which  mamma  said  meant  Emily.  We 
sometimes  met  in  the  street,  when  Emily  would 
return  a  frank  greeting  to  my  smile  of  recognition. 
In  fact,  she  had  not  romped  all  her  life  with  four- 


TWO    LUMPS    OF    SUGAR. 


teen  brothers  and  sisters  without  acquiring  a  great 
deal  of  confidence,  but  this  I  knew  was  necessary  to 
a  heroine,  and  the  heroine  of '  my  childish  imagina- 
tion Emily  Anthony  forthwith  became.  At  last  her 
mamma  sent  her  to  our  school ;  fancy  my  delight 
when  I  found  her  there  one  morning,  occupying  the 
seat  next  to  mine,  and  staring  about  her  as  compos- 
edly as  if  she  were  in  her  father's  yard. 

The  divine  Emily  tolerated  my  devotion  to  her 
very  good-naturedly,  and  allowed  me  to  wait  upon 
her,  to  wash  her  slate,  pick  up  her  handkerchief,  find 
the  place  in  her  spelling-book,  and  prompt  her  when 
we  stood  up  to  recite,  which  I  did  at  the  imminent 
risk  of  being  overheard  by  the  teacher,  and  con- 
demned to  wear  a  sampler  pinned  to  my  waist  for 
the  rest  of  the  day  as  a  punishment. 

My  beloved  friend  had  also  a  trick  of  perpetually 
nibbling  sweet  things  when  she  could  get  them,  and 
I  was  very  jealous  of  the  caresses  which  she  bestowed 
upon  those  of  the  girls  who  gave  her  sugar-plums  and 
candy.  I  secretly  determined  that  when  I  grew  up 
I  would  open  a  confectionery  store,  and  that  Emily 

61 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


Anthony  should  sit  behind  the  counter  all  day  and 
help  herself  at  pleasure  to  the  stock  in  trade.  But, 
alas !  I  was  not  obliged  to  wait  so  long  before  gratifying 
her  propensities ;  a  great  temptation  fell  in  my  way. 

About  this  time  mamma  began  to  allow  us  to  take 
tea  with  her  in  the  parlor,  and,  after  tea,  she  was 
accustomed  to  send  me  to  the  sideboard  to  put  away 
the  tea-caddy,  sugar-bowl,  and  other  small  articles. 
The  very  first  time  mamma  put  this  sugar-bowl  into 
my  hands  I  wished  that  I  could  give  Emily  just 
one  lump,  and  though  I  drove  away  the  thought,  it 
grew  upon  me  every  day,  till,  at  last,  one  unhappy 
evening,  in  a  sudden  impulse  yet  with  great  trepida- 
tion, I  seized  a  bit  of  sugar  from  the  bowl  just 
before  shutting  the  sideboard  door,  and  concealed 
it  in  the  bosom  of  my  frock,  for  mamma  did  not 
allow  us  to  wear  pockets.  My  terror  was  excessive, 
for  I  thought  mother  knew  everything,  and  that  she 
would  see  the  lump  of  sugar  right  through  my  dress, 
lying  against  my  palpitating  heart.  I  kept  in  the 
dark  as  much  as  possible,  and  as  soon  as  I  went 
up  stairs  I  hastened  to  deposit  my  ill-gotten  treasure 


TWO    LUMPS    OF    SUGAR. 


in  a  little  tin  teapot  belonging  to  my  doll's  furni- 
ture. 

That  night  I  had  very  bad  dreams,  and  next  morn- 
ing would  have  given  anything  to  have  been  able  to 
return  the  lump  of  sugar  unobserved,  but,  as  this 
was  impossible,  I  did  what  I  thought  the  next  best 
thing,  and  carried  it  to  Emily ;  whatever  remorse  I 
felt  was  changed  to  joy  when  I  beheld  the  satisfaction 
with  which  she  crushed  it  between  her  little  white 
teeth.  She  rewarded  ine  by  making  me  a  present 
of  an  old  needle-book  with  the  flannel  leaves  torn 
out,  and,  better  than  that,  she  bestowed  caresses  upon 
me  profusely,  and  begged  me  to  bring  her  some 
sugar  next  day,  averring  that  it  was  "a  deal  nicer 
than  comfits. "  My  enthusiasm  was  completely 
roused,  and  I  felt  it  was  both  an  honor  and  a  duty 
to  steal  sugar  for  Emily  Anthony.  When  papa  at 
tea-time  read  from  the  newspaper  an  account  of  a 
poor  woman  who  was  arrested  for  stealing  a  loaf  of 
bread  to  keep  her  child  from  starving,  and  who 
defended  her  conduct  boldly  before  the  magistrate,  I 
found  a  strong  resemblance  between  her  devotion  to 

63 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


her  child  and  mine  to  Emily.  It  was  some  time 
before  I  was  convinced  that  mamma  was  not  ubiqui- 
tous, and  that  she  was  entirely  unsuspicious  of  me, 
but  as  soon  as  I  discovered  that  I  was  mistaken  in 
the  extent  of  her  discernment,  I  rushed  to  the  other 
extreme,  and  began  to  entertain  a  profound  contempt 
for  it.  I  helped  myself  to  sugar  before  her  very 
eyes,  and  after  depositing  it  in  my  teapot,  would 
dance  about  her  like  a  wild  Indian,  rattling  it  in 
her  ears,  and  begging  her,  urging  her,  to  guess  what 
was  inside. 

But,  one  night,  having  grown  very  bold,  I  helped 
myself  at  the  table  to  two  lumps  of  sugar,  each  larger 
than  common ;  mamma's  back  was  towards  me,  and 
I  thought  myself  quite  safe,  but  before  I  could  pop 
them  as  usual  into  the  bosom  of  my  frock,  she  turned 
suddenly  round  and  bade  me  make  haste,  and  carry 
away  the  sugar-bowl.  Forced  to  obey  her,  I  closed 
a  hand  awkwardly  over  each  lump,  and  took  up  the 
bowl  between  my  two  fists. 

"Peasy,"  said  mamma,  "that  is  a  very  careless 
way  of  taking  things  up,  you  will  certainly  drop  the 


TWO    LUMPS    OF    SUGAft. 


sugar-bowl ;  put  it  down  and  then  open  your  hands, 
and  carry  it  in  a  proper  manner/' 

This,,  alas !  I  could  not  do  without  betraying  my- 
self, and  mamma,  seeing  my  embarrassment,  opened 
my  hands  for  me,  and  saw  my  guilt  at  once. 

I  cannot  describe  the  violent  and  agonizing  change 
in  my  feelings.  I  had  never  dreamed  of  tasting  a 
morsel  of  the  sugar  myself,  and  so  great  was  the  as- 
cendency which  Emily  Anthony  had  obtained  over  my 
imagination,  that  I  thought  it  impossible  to  do  wrong 
in  serving  her,  and  I  had  gloried  in  my  sin,  entirely 
unconscious  that  it  was  a  sin.  But  now  my  conscience 
woke  up  strong  and  suddenly  from  its  lethargy,  and 
lashed  me  with  a  whip  of  scorpions.  The  scales  fell 
from  my  eyes,  and  I  saw  myself  a  thief  of  the  basest 
kind,  who  had  deceived  mamma's  unbounded  confi- 
dence, and  had  forever  lost  all  right  to  her  esteem 
and  affection.  In  the  midst  of  my  misery  papa 
entered  the  room. 

"  See/'  said  my  mother  to  him,  "  see  this  little 
thief.  I  trust  her  with  our  property,  and  this  is  the 
way  she  rewards  us/' 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


She  exhibited  my  passive  hands,,  with  the  half- 
melted  sugar  still  adhering  to  the  burning  palms  ;  if 
I  could  have  summoned  an  earthquake  to  destroy 

the  city  of  M ,  and  bury  me  under  its  ruins,  I 

would  gladly  have  done  so. 

Papa  ordered  me  up  stairs  at  once,  and  indeed 
I  did  not  feel  fit  to  stay  in  their  presence,  and  hardly 
dared  to  enter  the  once  despised  nursery,  which  I 
now  felt  was  far  too  good  a  place  for  me.  I  kept 
aloof  from  little  Anne,  who  was  eating  bread  and 
milk  in  her  low  chair,  with  puss  watching  at  her 
side.  I  would  not  even  have  polluted  the  cat  by 
stroking  her. 

For  two  days  I  was  in  disgrace,  and  confined  to 
the  nursery.  Papa  and  mamma  never  spoke  to  me, 
nor  caressed  me,  but  looked  at  me  with  grave  and 
anxious  faces.  Mary  followed  their  example,  and  I 
thought  puss  walked  past  me  with  a  contemptuous 
wave  of  the  tail.  Little  Anne  alone  treated  me  as 
usual,  and  seemed  quite  unconscious  of  my  position ; 
but  I  suddenly  found  myself  grown  very  much  older, 
and  while  I  respected  her  superior  goodness,  I  looked 


TWO     LUMPS     OF     SUGAR. 


down  upon  her  as  upon  a  very  little  child.  When 
any  one  entered  the  nursery,  I  rushed  to  the  window 
and  looked  out  perseveringly  till  the  person  was  gone, 
but  you  may  be  sure  I  turned  away  my  eyes  from 
Mr.  Anthony's  yard.  I  could  not  endure  the  thought 
of  Emily  and  her  fourteen  brothers  and  sisters;  I 
wished  myself  a  sparrow  or  even  a  rat,  anything 
but  a  wicked  little  thief.  Mamma  made  me  learn 
a  number  of  hymns  and  verses  applicable  to  my  case, 
which  I  repeated  to  her  in  an  agony  of  shame,  feel- 
ing that  they  were  written  expressly  for  me,  and 
wondering  how  the  authors  could  have  known  so  long 
ago  that  such  a  naughty  girl  would  be  born  into  the 
world.  I  was  not  allowed  to  say  my  prayers  at 
mamma's  knee,  nor  did  she  kiss  me  when  I  went  to 
bed,  where  I  cried  myself  to  sleep  as  softly  as  pos- 
sible, with  my  head  under  the  bed-clothes;  it  was 
a  comfort  to  put  Anne's  hand  under  my  cheek  after 
she  was  asleep,  and  to  soak  through  her  little  night- 
gown sleeve  with  my  tears.  As  for  the  tin  teapot, 
I  hated  the  sight  of  it ;  I  bent  and  pummelled  it 
into  a  shapeless  mass,  and  threw  it  among  the  cin- 

67 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


ders  under  the  grate.  My  first  gleam  of  pleasure 
was  in  seeing  Mary  carry  it  away  unconsciously  to 
the  ash-bin. 

On  the  third  morning  papa  entered  at  an  unusual 
hour,  and,  calling  me  to  him,  took  me  on  his  knee, 
and  talked  to  me  gravely  but  very  kindly  about  my 
sin ;  he  told  me  that  if  I  was  heartily  sorry  for  it, 
God  would  forgive  me,  and  that  they  would  receive 
me  back  into  favor.  Never  had  repentance  been 
more  sincere  than  mine,  and  he  was  convinced  of  it. 
The  tears  which  his  sympathy  caused  to  pour  over 
my  cheeks  washed  away  all  the  unprofitable  bitter- 
ness of  my  grief,  and  left  me  with  an  earnest  desire 
to  do  better  and  repair  my  fault.  When  mamma 
came  in  she  kissed  me,  and  spoke  to  me  as  usual,  and 
I  felt  as  happy  as  Christian  when  his  bundle  fell  from 
his  back.  Mary  immediately  became  very  gracious, 
and  puss  amiably  accepted  a  bit  of  my  breakfast 
which  I  ventured  to  offer  her. 

I  had  a  great  many  unhappy  doubts  as  to  whether 
mamma  would  find  it  possible  to  have  full  confidence 
in  me  again,  but  though  my  feelings  were  grown  up, 


TWO    LUMPS    OF    SUGAR. 


my  language  was  the  language  of  a  child,  and  I  had 
no  power  of  expressing  them  to  her.  I  remember 
nothing  more  about  Emily  Anthony,  except  that  I 
returned  her  the  dilapidated  needle-book.  She  had 
entirely  lost  her  influence  over  me,  and  in  future  I 
could  watch  her  gambols  in  the  yard  with  a  stern  and 
sarcastic  composure. 


IV. 


"WELLINGTON. 

jL  children  love  animals  ;  the  baby  six  months 
old  plunges  its  hands  rapturously  into  poor 
kitty's  fur,  and  endeavors  to  get  her  head  into  its 
mouth,  while  the  little  brother  next  in  age  drags 
her  away  by  the  tail  and  tries  to  make  her  comfort- 
able by  rocking  her  violently  in  the  cradle,  knocking 
her  poor  head  from  side  to  side  till  she  springs  out 
with  a  loud  "  miau"  and  takes  refuge  under  the  sofa, 
from  whence  no  tears  and  entreaties  can  coax  her, 
no  trailing  strings,  no  rolling  balls,  no  poking  of 
broom-handles,  can  dislodge  her,  and  the  poor  babies 
are  heart-broken.  My  first  loves  were  the  rats  in  our 

yard  at  M Safe  in  my  nurse's  arms  I  used  to 

watch  them  dodging  behind  the  boxes  and  barrels  ; 
now  a  long  tail,  now  a  sharp  nose  and  bright  eyes, 

70 


WELLINGTON. 


would  pop  out,  as  they  squealed  and  tumbled  over 
each  other.  In  vain  I  held  out  my  piece  of  bread  to 
them  and  called  out  in  my  most  fascinating  tones, 
"  Here,  yat,  yat,  yat,"  I  could  never  teach  them  to 
come  and  eat  out  of  my  hand.  We  had  to  put  the 
bread  down,  and  withdraw  to  a  respectful  distance,  if 
we  wanted  to  get  a  full  view  of  my  favorites,  who  were 
pretty  sure,  after  a  careful  inspection  of  the  premises, 
to  rush  out  and  drag  it  away  in  a  little  whirlwind  of 
dust,  without  so  much  as  a  look  of  gratitude.  I 
could  not  blame  their  bad  manners,  for  Bob,  our  big 
mouser,  would  generally  be  sunning  himself  on  the 
shed,  or  on  the  stone  sill  of  the  kitchen  window,  and 
the  rats  and  I  were  equally  afraid  of  him.  He  was  an 
immense  yellow  cat,  who  could  stretch  and  swell  him- 
self out  as  big  almost  as  a  lion,  I  used  to  think,  and 
his  buff-ringed  tail  would  wave  and  quiver  till  I  felt 
as  sure  it  would  bite  me  as  if  it  had  been  a  poisonous 
snake.  I  did  not  like  to  be  left  in  the  room  alone 
with  him,  for  he  claimed  the  hearth-rug  as  his  private 
property,  and  if  I  ventured  to  approach  it,  he  greeted 
me  with  a  growl  like  distant  thunder ;  he  had  besides 

71 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


a  way  of  fixing  his  eye  upon  me  in  a  very  unpleasant 
manner.  I  was  so  afraid  he  would  mistake  me  for 
a  rat,  though  I  tried  to  look  as  little  like  one  as  pos- 
sible. 

Mamma  had  a  canary  who  sang  delightfully,  but 
he  was  hung  so  high  up  in  a  lofty  room,  to  be  out  of 
Bob's  reach,  that  we  never  got  much  acquainted  with 
him.  I  thought  he  was  a  great  deal  nearer  to  heaven 
than  he  was  to  us,  and  that  he  was  God's  bird,  sing- 
ing his  beautiful  songs  for  God  alone.  He  used  to 
flutter  and  chirp  in  a  terrified  way  when  mamma  took 
his  cage  down  to  clean  it,  till  at  last  the  morning 
came  when  he  was  found  lying  very  still  on  the  bottom 
of  it,  with  his  slender  claws  held  up  piteously,  very 
like  a  certain  picture  in  our  "  Death  and  Burial  of 
Poor  Cock  Bobin."  Anne  and  I  endeavored  to  bury 
him  according  to  the  forms  prescribed  in  that  book. 
While  she  "carried  the  link,"  a  lead-pencil  with  a 
bit  of  red  rag  tied  to  one  end,  I  was  "  the  owl  so 
brave,  who  dug  "  Canary's  "  grave,"  in  the  scrap  of 
flower  border  in  the  yard.  Afterwards,  wrapping 
him  in  a  doll's  muslin  apron  for  a  pall,  and  shutting 

72 


WELLINGTON. 


him  up  ill  a  paper  box  for  a  coffin,  I  carried  him  to 
the  grave  in  my  mouth,  and  waved  my  arms  in  imita- 
tion of  the  wings  of  the  kite  who  bore  Cock  Robin's 
coffin  through  the  air  in  a  similar  manner.  We  set 
up  a  piece  of  broken  slate  for  headstone,  on  which 
we  got  mamma  to  write  the  following  couplet :  — 

"Under  this  stone 
Lies  our  canary's  bone." 

You  see  he  was  so  small  we  thought  he  could  not 
have  more  than  one  bone  in  his  body.  The  first  rain 
washed  away  the  epitaph,  but  before  that  time  we  had 
forgotten  all  about  him. 

At  our  country  lodgings  we  had  Moll  to  play 
with.  She  was  a  white  mastiff  of  great  strength  and 
size,  who  bore  our  teasing  as  patiently  as  she  bore  the 
awkward  gambols  of  her  puppies.  We  endeavored 
to  assist  her  in  their  education  by  trying  to  teach 
them  to  stand  on  their  legs.  With  infinite  pains  we 
set  them  up  on  their  feet,  stretched  very  far  apart,  and 
when  they  reeled  and  tottered  and  rolled  over,  we 
patiently  began  again.  We  thought  they  improved 

73 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


under  our  instruction  every  day,  and  took  great 
credit  to  ourselves  when  at  last  they  could  stagger 
along  without  tumbling  down  the  whole  distance 
between  Anne's  lap  and  mine,  fully  a  quarter  of  a 
yard.  But,  alas  !  just  at  this  period  of  advancement 
the  puppies  were  removed  and  given  away,  and  Moll 
howled  in  concert  with  us. 

Moll  died  one  winter  while  we  were  in  town,  and 
next  spring  we  found  Fan,  the  spaniel,  reigning  in  her 
stead.  But  we  did  not  like  her;  she  was  always 
scampering  about  with  her  nose  to  the  ground,  tongue 
lolling  out  of  her  mouth,  and  her  long  chocolate- 
colored  ears  napping  against  the  side  of  her  head  like 
winglets.  She  used  to  burst  in  upon  us  like  a  little 
hurricane,  upsetting  our  sedate  dolls'  school  just  as 
our  pupils  were  studying  their  lessons  off  bits  of 
newspaper  pinned  to  their  knees,  or  scattering  our 
dinner  dishes  nicely  set  out  upon  a  cricket,  just  as  we 
—  Mrs.  Howard  and  Mrs.  Fitz-Clarence,  as  we  called 
ourselves  —  were  sitting  down  to  an  elegant  repast. 
Out  of  sheer  disgust  to  Pan,  we  began  to  take  a  great 
interest  in  a  poor  forlorn  turkey,  the  only  turkey 

74 


WELLINGTON. 


among  the  poultry  which  pecked  about  the  barnyard 
industriously.  It  looked  very  patriarchal  with  its 
bald  head  and  long  red  beard,  but  its  behavior  was 
very  undignified,  it  was  so  timid  and  bewildered.  It 
was  always  standing  on  one  leg  in  an  anxious  man- 
ner, and  squeezing  under  the  hedge,  or  huddling  its 
feathers  in  a  heap  as  it  clung  to  the  lowest  branch  of 
an  apple-tree.  It  hovered  behind  the  other  fowls 
when  we  went  out  to  feed  them  with  crumbs,  and  if 
we  threw  a  handful  far  enough  to  reach  it,  it  ran  off 
in  a  fright,  and  the  big  rooster  would  walk  up  in  a 
stately  way  and  swallow  every  morsel,  the  poor  turkey 
looking  dismally  on  from  behind  the  pump.  We 
pitied  it  because  it  had  no  mate  to  gobble  at  and  to 
strut  before,  and  we  paid  it  great  attention,  so  that  at 
last  it  came  to  eat  fearlessly  out  of  our  hands,  and 
kept  us  company  whenever  we  played  out  of  doors, 
walking  after  us  with  its  light  springing  step  like  a 
friendly  spy.  Pan  used  to  rush  upon  it  sometimes, 
when  the  poor  thing  would  look  just  ready  to  faint 
away ;  but  we  in  turn  charged  upon  Fan  with  pina- 
fores outspread  and  armed  with  sticks,  and  happy 

75 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


was  she  who  managed  to  box  Fan's  ears.  We  com- 
forted our  poor  turkey  with  bits  of  bun,  and  it  bowed 
its  head  gratefully  before  us,  picking  them  one  at  a 
time  from  our  laps.  Prom  being  "  the  thinnest  tur- 
key in  the  four  kingdoms/'  as  Mrs.  Mason  averred,  it 
became  the  fattest,  its  feathers  grew  sleek  and  shining, 
it  stood  firmly  on  two  strong  legs,  instead  of  on  a 
single  trembling  one.  Mrs.  Mason  called  it  my  tur- 
key, that  is,  she  said  I  should  have  it  for  my  birthday 
present.  My  birthday  occurred  late  in  the  autumn, 

and  we  were  to  return  to  M soon  afterwards. 

Anne  and  I  laid  a  hundred  plans  ,for  conveying  our 
turkey  to  the  city  per  basket  or  meal-bag,  and  for 
constructing  him  a  coop  in  the  yard,  well  barricaded 
against  the  rats ;  we  hoped  he  would  not  be  much 
afraid  of  them,  he  was  already  beginning  to  make  a 
faint  show  of  standing  his  ground  against  Fan,  which 
promised  well,  and,  in  good  hopes  that  his  courage 
would  grow  as  his  body  had  done,  we  agreed  to  call 
him  Great-Heart. 

On  the  afternoon  before  my  birthday  we  went  out 
to  see  Great-Heart,  and  to  give  him  some  cold  boiled 

76 


WELLINGTON. 


rice  as  an  earnest  of  what  we  would  do  for  him  when 
he  was  really  our  own  bird.  While  he  was  eating  we 
smoothed  his  feathers  and  told  him  wonderful  stories 

about  M and  the  yard,  and  the  coop  that  was  to 

be,  carefully  avoiding  the  subject  of  rats.  It  was 
very  cold,  and  our  teeth  chattered  as  fast  as  our 
tongues,  but  Great-Heart  was  now  too  plump  and 
sleek  to  mind  the  cold,  so  we  assisted  him  to  mount 
his  favorite  perch  in  the  barnyard,  and  ran  in  to  pick 
out  our  very  prettiest  bit  of  ribbon  wherewith  to 
decorate  him  next  day. 

On  the  following  day,  therefore,  we  woke  up  as 
bright  as  the  morning  sun  without  and  the  spark- 
ling fires  within ;  we  put  on  new  frocks,  and  mamma 
gave  us  our  best  playthings,  while  the  lesson  books 
were  laid  away  on  an  upper  shelf.  As  soon  as  we 
had  swallowed  our  breakfast,  we  ran  into  the  kitchen, 
ribbon  in  hand.  There  was  to  be  company  at  dinner, 
so  Mrs.  Mason  and  her  maid  Jane  were  very  busy 
making  puddings  and  tarts  and  cakes,  but  they  left  off 
to  smile  upon  us,  and  to  wish  me  many  happy  birth- 
days ;  kind  Mrs.  Mason  wiped  the  flour  off  her  hands, 

77 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


and  brought  from  the  depths  of  her  pocket  a  crockery 
sheep  with  deep  red  spots  on  his  sides,  lying  under  a 
green  crockery  tree,  which  she  told  me  was  a  birthday 
present,  while  Jane  gave  me  a  peppermint  heart  of 
the  largest  size,  which  she  took  from  between  the 
leaves  of  the  cookery-book.  I  kissed  them  both, 
mistress  and  maid,  standing  on  the  points  of  my 
toes. 

"And  you  said  I  should  have  Great- Heart,  the 
turkey  I  mean,  on  my  birthday,  didn't  you,  Mrs. 
Mason  ?  ~"  said  I,  "  and  he 's  mine  now,  ain't  he  ? 
so  I  'm  going  to  see  him." 

"  Yes,  deary,  I  said  you  should  have  him,  and 
I  \e  kept  my  word,  sure  enough ;  he 's  just  out 
doors  there  if  you  want  to  look  at  him." 

Off  we  ran  again,  calling  "  Great-Heart !  Great- 
Heart  ! "  as  fast  as  we  could,  for  it  was  not  an  easy 
name  to  speak  fast,  and  at  last  running  up  against 
him  before  we  noticed  him.  What  a  terrible  sight 
met  our  horrified  eyes !  Poor  Great-Heart  tied  up 
against  the  wall  by  both  legs,  a  great  slit  in  his  neck, 
which  hung  down  limp  and  lifeless,  and  a  small 

78 


WELLINGTON. 


puddle  of  blood  underneath.  He  was  stone  dead. 
Anne  burst  into  tears  of  grief,  and  I  into  a  storm  of 
passion.  I  flew  back  to  Mrs.  Mason,  and  seized  her 
fiercely  by  the  dress,  quite  speechless  with  rage  and 
horror  for  a  moment. 

"  O  deary,  the  flour !  the  flour !  don't  touch  me,  it 
will  be  all  over  your  frock,  and  what  will  mamma 
say?"  cried  she,  holding  her  hands  up  out  of  my 
reach. 

"I  don't  want  to  touch  you,  you  bad  woman!" 
I  broke  forth,  suddenly  letting  go  my  hold  of  her. 
"  How  dared  you  kill  my  turkey,  you  cruel,  wicked 
woman  !  I  hate  you  with  all  my  heart,  and  I  '11  break 
your  sheep's  neck  just  as  you  broke  poor  Great- 
Heart's."  And  thereupon  I  flung  the  crockery  sheep 
across  the  kitchen,  where  it  was  broken  into  a  dozen 
pieces  against  the  bars  of  the  grate. 

"  Deary  me  !  "  said  poor  Mrs.  Mason,  astonished, 
"  why,  did  n't  you  know  I  always  meant  to  give  you 
the  turkey  for  your  birthday  dinner  ?  Did  n't  I  say 
so,  deary?  Why,  I  thought  you'd  like  it,  so  I  did. 
Now  don't  ye  cry,  don't  ye,  dearies,  and  I  '11  give 

79 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


you  old  Top-Knot  herself  instead.  She 's  a  deal  nicer 
old  creetur  than  that  stupid  —  " 

"  Hold  your  tongue  ! "  cried  I,  fiercely.  "  What," 
thought  I,  "  cut  Great-Hearths  throat  and  then  insult 
him  ?  "  My  grief  redoubled,  but  my  fury  was  soon 
over;  and  I  wept  as  piteously  as  Anne  did.  I 
began  to  be  a  very  little  sorry,  too,  that  I  had 
broken  my  present,  but  I  would  not  allow  it  to 
myself. 

The  company  arrived,  excellent  friends  of  ours  as 
well  as  of  papa  and  mamma.  I  received  some  pretty 
books  and  games,  and  my  sorrow  was  somewhat 
soothed,  especially  as  mamma  sympathized  with  us 
very  much,  when  she  found  how  we  had  been  de- 
ceiving ourselves.  If  she  had  known  of  my  bad 
behavior  to  Mrs.  Mason,  she  would  have  sent  me 
immediately  to  ask  pardon,  and  that  I  vowed  I  never 
would  do,  never,  never;  but  I  was  not  put  to 
the  test. 

At  dinner-time  we  sat  one  on  each  side  of  mamma, 
and  a  great  way  from  the  turkey,  which  was  placed 
before  papa.  "We  did  not  turn  our  eyes  in  that 

80 


WELLINGTON. 


direction,  but,  in  spite  of  this  precaution,  a  good 
many  tears  dropped  from  them,  which  we  wiped 
stealthily  away  on  our  printed  pocket-handkerchiefs. 
Papa  had  the  good  sense  not  to  offer  us  any  of  his 
dish,  and  we  managed  to  get  half-way  through  dinner 
decently.  We  listened  with  a  great  deal  of  indig- 
nation, and  some  pride  also,  to  the  careless  comments 
of  the  company  upon  the  superior  size  and  flavor 
of  poor  Great- Heart.  "What  did  they  fatten  him 
upon,  I  wonder?"  said  one  of  the  guests. 

"  Buns/'  said  papa,  seriously. 

This  was  too  much.  Anne  and  I  looked  at  each 
other,  and  ran  out  of  the  room  to  cry  again,  sitting 
on  the  top  stairs  with  our  heads  despairingly  against 
the  banisters.  Here  Jane  found  us  when  she  came 
to  bring  us  each  a  little  fan  made  from  the  poor 
turkey's  feathers,  and  here  Mrs.  Mason  found  us 
when  she  came  to  tell  us  how  sorry  she  was  for  us, 
and  to  hope  we  would  not  be  vexed  with  her  any 
more.  I  suppose  we  forgave  her,  for  I  remember 
we  spent  the  evening  in  her  room,  both  of  us  in  her 
lap,  while  she  rocked  us  in  her  rush-bottomed  chair, 

81 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


and  sang  to  us  "Lord  Level/'  "The  Soldier's 
Beturn,"  and  other  ditties.  After  all,  if  a  great 
shadow  darkened  this  birthday,  there  were  patches 
of  sunshine  too. 

Papa  always  had  a  fine  horse.  Not  always  the 
same,  for  he  often  changed  his  favorites ;  and  though 
we  used  to  cry  heartily  when  the  old  pony  was  sold, 
we  welcomed  the  new  one  with  delight,  and  he  soon 
trotted  and  cantered  as  far  into  our  affections  as  his 
predecessor.  It  was  a  fearful  joy  to  pat  him  with 
loud  hard  pats,  and  to  cry  courageously,  "Poor 
fellow,  good  old  fellow,  stand  still,  old  boy ! "  while 
at  the  same  time  we  kept  one  eye  upon  his  ears,  and 
if  he  pricked  them  up  ever  so  little  we  were  quite 
ready  to  start  back  with  a  cowardly  scream.  When 
we  were  riding,  we  gave  most  of  our  attention  to 
the  horse ;  it  was  so  curious  to  watch  him,  shut  up 
between  the  shafts,  whisking  his  tail  over  the  reins, 
nodding  and  wagging  his  head,  as  if  he  were  talking 
to  himself,  and  turning  first  one  ear  and  then  the 
other  stealthily  round  if  we  spoke  but  a  single  word  ; 
such  pretty  ears,  too,  so  nicely  lined  with  soft  hair 


WELLINGTON. 


like  a  couple  of  birdVnests !  Of  course  we  always 
spoke  of  him  while  riding  in  the  most  complimentary 
terms,  and  what  moments  of  suspense  we  endured 
after  papa  touched  him  with  the  whip,  lest  he  should 
take  it  ill  and  tumble  us  all  out.  It  was  curious 
also  to  see  the  great  spreading  veins  under  his  thin, 
shining  skin,  branching  all  over  him  like  a  vine,  and 
how  this  glossy  skin  would  quiver  convulsively  if  a 
fly  did  but  touch  it  with  one  tiny  foot. 

"  Flower  "  and  "  Spring  "  were  the  first  of  papa's 
horses  which  I  remember ;  they  were  both  white, 
and  they  glimmer  like  four-footed  ghosts  among 
the  dim  and  broken  recollections  of  very  early  child- 
hood. And  then,  distinct  in  outline  and  color,  comes 
Wellington,  bright  bay  Wellington,  the  Bronze  horse, 
the  Enchanted  horse  of  my  young  days.  He  was  an 
old  blood  horse,  an  old  trooper,  and  had  belonged 
once  to  a  cavalry  officer  who  had  ridden  him  into 
battle.  He  must  have  been  an  animal  of  uncommon 
character,  for  he  seized  upon  my  imagination  like  a 
human  being,  and  indeed  I  sympathized  with  him 
far  more  than  with  most  human  beings  who  fell  in  my 

83 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


way.  I  thought  I  had  never  seen  any  man  so  gentle, 
elegant,  and  high-bred  as  Wellington;  and  his  face 
had  a  pensive  sadness  of  expression  which  I  fancied 
was  owing  to  his  having  looked  down  so  often  upon 
wounded  and  dying  soldiers.  When  he  stood  im- 
movable in  the  paddock  with  downcast  head,  I 
believed  he  was  recalling  the  memory  of  some  fierce 
charge,  and  that  he  saw  bleeding  men  among  the 
daisies  and  buttercups.  I  almost  saw  them  there 
myself. 

John  Cookson,  the  groom,  bestowed  a  great  deal 
more  care  upon  Wellington  than  Mary,  his  sweet- 
heart, vouchsafed  to  us.  It  took  twice  as  long  to 
comb  his  mane  as  it  did  to  curl  our  two  heads,  and 
the  scrubbings  we  endured  were  nothing  to  what  he 
had  to  bear.  Our  breakfasts  were  much  easier  to 
prepare  than  his  warm  mashes,  and  there  was  a  great 
deal  more  fuss  made  about  the  set  of  his  harness  than 
about  the  set  of  our  frocks.  If  he  refused  his  sup- 
per, papa  and  Mr.  Mason  and  John  and  half  a 
dozen  loungers,  with  their  hands  in  their  pockets, 
went  into  the  stable  anxiously  to  look  at  him  and 

84 


WELLINGTON. 


prescribe  for  him ;  if  we  could  n't  eat  ours,  mamma 
only  said,  "  0,  the  children  are  tired,  put  them  to 
bed  and  they  '11  be  hungry  enough  in  the  morning/' 
Putting  us  to  bed  was  the  sovereign  cure  for  all  our 
troubles  bodily  and  mental,  and  we  found,  on  inquiry 
among  our  school-fellows,  that  other  children  were 
similarly  afflicted.  It  was  well  enough  in  winter, 
but  to  go  to  bed  at  six  or  seven  o'clock  of  a  mid- 
summer evening,  when  the  furniture  in  the  chamber 
almost  floated  in  a  strong  sea  of  sunshine,  this  was 
really  abominable,  and  it  made  us  highly  indignant. 
"  What,  go  to  bed  in  the  broad  day  ?  the  woman's 
cracked ! "  said  the  little  cobbler  in  the  play  to  his 
wife,  who  was  recommending  him  to  lie  down.  We 
were  too  polite  to  express  such  an  opinion  about 
mamma,  whatever  our  private  feelings  might  have 
been. 

Putting  us  to  bed,  however,  was  one  thing,  and 
going  to  sleep  was  another ;  this  was  often  impossi- 
ble, though  we  tried  our  very  best :  in  vain  we  bal- 
anced ourselves  on  opposite  edges  of  the  bed,  as  far 
apart  as  possible,  lest  we  should  disturb  each  other, 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


repeating  in  monotonous  tones  the  stupidest  of  our 
poems,  our  last  spelling  lesson,  or  counting  over  and 
over  up  to  the  very  last  number  that  we  knew ;  in 
vain  we  shut  our  eyes  so  tight  that  they  ached,  and 
tried  to  think  of  nothing  at  all,  some  cunning  ray 
of  sunlight  would  be  sure  to  make  itself  small 
enough  to  enter  by  slipping  its  seven  colors  one  at 
a  time  under  our  eyelashes,  and  dazzling  us  so  with 
rainbow  effects  that  we  were  obliged  to  lift  up  our 
eyelids  to  let  them  out  again. 

Then  all  sorts  of  wide-awake  sounds  came  to  us 
through  the  open  window :  Brindle  coming  up  from 
pasture,  and  lowing  all  the  way,  so  that  we  could 
tell,  by  the  increasing  loudness  of  her  "  moo-noos," 
just  when  she  got  to  the  big  gate,  to  the  cart-path, 
to  the  bars,  and  so  on  fairly  into  the  barnyard ; 
the  hens  clucking  about  the  kitchen  door,  where 
Jane  sat  singing  "  Black-eyed  Susan " ;  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Mason  discussing  the  prices  of  butter  and  beef 
in  the  porch,  from  whence  ascended  a  fragrant  odor 
of  tobacco;  papa's  approaching  gig- wheels  grinding 
the  gravel  in  the  avenue,  the  sudden  pull-up,  the 


WELLINGTON. 


loud  "  whoa/  the  stamping  of  John's  big  boots  as 
he  came  out  to  take  the  horse,  and  then  a  smell  of 
tea  and  muffins  creeping  under  the  door,  and  through 
it  all  Mary  in  the  nursery,  and  the  swallows  under 
the  eaves  "  hush-a-byeing "  their  little  ones,  who 
seemed  to  be  as  far  from  sleep  as  we  were.  We 
could  not  bear  it  any  longer. 

"  Anne/'  I  would  say,  "  I  think  we  ought  to  sit 
up  as  long  as  the  sun  does;  let's  play." 

Play  we  did.  The  chintz  counterpane,  with  its 
knots  and  bunches  of  flowers,  made  a  delightful  gar- 
den of  Eden  when  spread  on  the  floor,  and  covered 
with  the  animals  out  of  our  Noah's  ark.  The  white 
bears,  and  those  of  the  creatures  whose  names  we  did 
not  know,  we  banished  to  the  arctic  regions,  repre- 
sented by  our  two  pillows,  which  made  admirable 
snow-banks.  We,  Adam  and  Eve,  sat  under  a  tent 
of  sheets,  and  surveyed  our  domains  with  pride,  but 
soon,  like  Adam  and  Eve,  longing  for  more  experi- 
ence, we  ventured  to  pop  our  little  nightcapped 
heads  carefully  out  of  the  window.  We  drank  in 
great  draughts  of  summer  air  scented  with  clover; 

87 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


we  heard  the  cuckoo's  faint  voice  from  a  distant 
grove,  and  the  far-off  chimes  of  the  church ;  we 
saw  the  long  soft  cloud-drifts  which  the  sun  would 
by  and  by  turn  into  crimson  and  golden  pillows  for 
his  sinking  head ;  and  then  we  watched  the  black 
and  red  caterpillars  which  crawled  along  the  win- 
dow-sill and  up  into  the  tall  honeysuckle.  Every- 
thing was  serious  and  beautiful  to  our  young  eyes. 

Once  in  a  fit  of  recklessness  Anne  dropped  an 
elephant  on  father's  head,  he  happening  to  stand  in 
a  very  tempting  position  just  below  us.  We  were 
in  a  great  fright  lest  we  should  be  detected,  but 
for  all  that  we  could  not  forbear  keeping  our  heads 
out  of  the  window  to  watch  the  effect.  Luckily  the 
little  big  beast  rolled  gently  from  the  crown  of  papa's 
hat  to  the  brim,  and  then  slipped  down  his  back 
into  the  middle  of  a  rosebush. 

"  Those  swallows  are  so  troublesome/'  said  papa, 
looking  up  to  some  nests  under  the  eaves,  and 
walking  quietly  away,  at  once  to  our  great  relief  and 
sorrow  ! 

We  had  to  make  a  great  many  awkward  attempts 


WELLINGTON. 


before  we  could  rearrange  the  bedclothes  after  our 
nightly  plays,  but  we  slept  soundly  at  last  in  spite 
of  the  wrinkles.  One  night,  just  as  I  was  dropping 
into  a  dream,  I  heard  Mrs.  Mason's  voice  calling  to 
John. 

"  John,  there 's  eggs  wanted  for  breakfast,  and 
the  master  says  you  may  take  Wellington  the  first 
thing  in  the  morning  and  go  round  to  the  water-mill 
farm.  Perhaps  you  '11  get  some  there,  there  's  none 
hereabouts,  and  mind  you  start  by  sunrise.  I'll 
leave  the  basket  on  the  kitchen  table.  You  know  the 
road,  don't  you  ?  down  Sweetbrier  Lane,  and  past  the 
great  willow  by  the  brook  —  and  —  " 

I  remember  no  more,  only  that  the  great  willow 
waved  its  arms  through  my  dreams,  the  brook  rus- 
tled, the  mill-wheel  turned ;  and  when  a  stupid 
half-awake  early  fly  buzzed  against  my  face  at  four 
o'clock  the  next  morning,  I  started  up,  half  expect- 
ing to  hear  Mrs.  Mason  finish  her  directions,  and 
then  becoming  conscious  that  it  was  just  about  the 
time  when  John  would  be  getting  ready  to  fulfil 
them.  Hark!  yes,  that  was  John  walking  across 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


the  kitchen  in  his  stocking  feet ;  then  I  heard  him 
whistling  merrily  in  the  yard,  and  pretty  soon  the 
whistling  was  accompanied  by  sundry  snortings  and 
stampings,  and  a  great  knocking  against  the  stable 
door,  by  which  I  knew  that  both  "Wellington  and  the 
currycomb  were  taking  part  in  the  trio,  though  John 
was  obliged  to  interrupt  it  very  often  with  loud  excla- 
mations of  "Mind  yourself  now!  Hold  up  your  head! 
Stand  still,  you —  "  John  and  Wellington  were  pre- 
paring to  go  down  Sweetbrier  Lane,  and  so  on  to  the 
water-mill  farm.  These  words  suggested  a  hundred 
confused  beautiful  pastoral  images,  and,  let  come  what 
would,  I  determined  to  be  of  the  party;  and  this  was  a 
desperate  resolution  for  a  little  girl  brought  up  in  the 
extreme  of  English  regularity,  reserve,  and  seclusion. 
In  the  first  place  I  had  never  dressed  myself  in  my 
life,  but,  nevertheless,  I  scrambled  into  my  clothes  as 
well  as  I  could,  buttoning  them  in  front  and  then 
turning  the  buttons  round  to  their  proper  place  be- 
hind, before  attempting  to  put  my  arms  through  the 
shoulder-straps,  which  of  course  went  snap,  snap,  one 
at  a  time,  each  snap  costing  me  the  most  dismal 

90 


WELLINGTON. 


forebodings.  What  would  mamma  and  Mary  say? 
When  it  came  to  frock  and  pinafore  I  had  to  rouse 
Anne.  I  can  see  her  now,  kneeling  on  the  edge  of 
the  bed,  her  uncurled  hair  drooping  over  the  little 
collar  of  her  nightgown,  sleep  and  wonder  contending 
in  her  eyes,  while  with  her  small  fingers  she  patiently 
made  a  succession  of  hard  knots  in  each  string  for 
want  of  ability  to  tie  bows.  Equipped  after  a  fashion, 
I  seized  my  hat,  and  ran  softly  out  of  the  light  room 
into  the  entry,  where  the  darkness  still  seemed  to  be 
dozing  away  in  the  corners,  and  where  I  could  hear 
from  the  open  chamber-doors  the  long  breathing  of 
sleepers  which  seemed  to  hush  the  very  walls  and 
furniture  into  repose.  I  had  never  noticed  before 
that  the  stairs  creaked  at  all,  but  now,  as  I  went 
down,  stumbling  over  my  shoe-strings,  each  step 
brought  out  a  creak  as  loud,  I  thought,  as  a  pistol- 
shot,  and  I  wondered  how  the  darkness  could  doze, 
and  the  people  and  the  house  sleep  on  through  it  all. 
But  they  did. 

All  the  dusky  way  from  my  bedroom  to  the  back 
door  my  heart  beat  with  fear,  and  I  suspected  that  I 

91 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


was  a  very  naughty  girl,  but  as  soon  as  I  stepped  out, 
for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  into  the  early  glory  of  a 
summer's  day,  my  whole  being  blended  with  it,  and 
I  felt ' '  good  "  because  the  morning  was  so  good,  and 
I  was  a  part  of  it.  I  had  played  "  Garden  of  Eden  " 
so  often,  that  the  idea  of  Eve  came  at  once  into  my 
mind,  and  I  confusedly  half  realized  what  were  her 
sensations  when  she  walked  out  before  breakfast  on 
her  first  waking  in  Paradise ;  "  only/'  I  thought  with 
a  sigh,  "  she  had  no  buttons,  or  strings,  or  shoulder- 
straps/' 

What  a  singing  there  was  !  It  seemed  as  if  every 
lark,  blackbird,  robin,  thrush,  which  had  been  hatched 
into  the  world  since  the  creation,  was  trying  to  outdo 
all  the  rest,  each  warbling  his  loudest,  right  at  the 
broad  face  of  the  sun,  who,  having  just  cleared  the 
horizon,  was  stretching  forth  long  arms  of  light  in  a 
morning  blessing  over  the  earth.  My  imagination 
opened  wide  and  suddenly,  like  the  convolvulus  cups  in 
the  porch,  which,  born  after  the  dew,  reflected  the  blue 
of  heaven  without  its  tears. 

John's  strong  white  teeth  showed  themselves  in  a 

92 


WELLINGTON. 


broad  grin  as  soon  as  he  saw  me,  and  as  he  was  a 
thoughtless,  good-natured  fellow,  he  made  no  objection 
to  taking  me  with  him;  he  knelt  down  patiently  to 
tie  the  ribbons  of  my  hat  under  my  chin,  not  without 
leaving  the  marks  of  his  broad  fingers  and  still  broader 
thumbs.  So  behold  me  mounted  before  him  on  the 
saddle,  holding  the  empty  egg-basket  fast  in  both 
hands,  and  my  heart  fluttering  with  joy  against  his 
arm.  Think  of  being  so  near  Wellington's  wonderful 
ears  that  I  could  whisper  into  them  as  Tom  Thumb 
did  !  so  near  to  that  cavern  of  a  mouth  from  whence 
issued  snorts  and  neighs  and  champing  of  bits  !  But 
the  strength  and  vigor  of  the  horse  magnetized  me,  as 
people  say  nowadays,  and  gave  me  courage,  so  that 
I  felt  as  brave  as  the  fierce  officer  who  in  former  days 
had  pricked  Wellington  into  battle  with  great  bloody 
spurs,  and  I  rode  past  the  duck-pond  and  the  cucum- 
ber hot-beds  in  high  feather. 

What  a  view  I  had  from  my  lofty  seat !  I  no  longer 
envied  Tippoo  Sultan  his  white  elephant  of  forty 
hands  high.  Could  n't  I  see  the  whole  world  stretched 
out  beyond  the  top  of  the  hedge,  as  far  as  Farmer 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


Greatorex  meadows  ?  The  number  of  cottages  visible 
at  once  was  quite  beyond  my  knowledge  of  counting, 
and  each  was  decorated  with  a  plume  of  smoke 
which  waved  gallantly  in  the  breeze.  Instead  of 
smoke,  ivy  wreaths  were  swinging  from  the  low  broad 
tower  of  the  church,  like  the  curls  of  a  green  wig  on 
its  gray  forehead,  I  thought,  and  I  could  see  the  thick 
black  yew-trees  in  the  churchyard,  which  refused  to 
smile  in  the  sunshine  or  to  let  it  warm  the  cold  grave- 
stones over  which  they  brooded.  In  the  horizon  the 

place  of  the  huge  manufacturing  city  of  M was 

marked  by  the  heavy  lurid  cloud  that  hung  over  it, 
covering  a  world  of  misery,  which  I  was  too  young 
to  understand.  For  the  poor  in  English  manufac- 
turing towns  starved  to  death  often  in  those  days, 

and  the  poor  in  M were  unusually  numerous  and 

wretched. 

But  without  troubling  our  heads  much  about  the 

city  of  M and  the  misery  hidden  under  that  curtain 

of  smoke,  John  and  Wellington  and  I  jogged  along 
on  that  most  beautiful  of  all  the  summer  mornings 
that  ever  shone  for  me,  and  drew  near  the  "  Flying 

94 


WELLINGTON. 


Dragon/''  a  wayside  public  house  with  a  battered  sign- 
board representing  a  creature  like  a  winged  crocodile, 
clawing  the  air,  and  breathing  out  flames ;  but  these 
flames,  once  I  suppose  of  a  terrible  brightness,  were 
now  reduced  to  a  number  of  dull  red  spots,  so  that  the 
flying  dragon  appeared  to  be  suffering  from  nosebleed, 
and  the  sheep  which  he  carried  in  one  paw  looked 
very  much  like  a  dirty  white  pocket-handkerchief 
wherewith  to  wipe  away  the  drops.  The  upper  part 
of  the  house  was  fast  asleep,  the  curtains  being  drawn 
down  over  the  windows  like  so  many  eyelids,  but  the 
bar-room  was  wide  awake,  sashes  thrown  up,  and  the 
red  hangings,  fluttering  outward  and  upward,  had  been 
caught  and  suspended  on  the  laurel  bushes,  so  that 
there  was  a  fine  view  to  be  had  inside  of  Betty  the 
scullery-maid  clattering  about  in  her  pattens,  scrub- 
bing and  sanding  the  dirty  floor,  while  the  shining 
bottles  and  glasses  on  the  shelves  looked  down  upon 
her  with  clean  complacency.  The  tall  clock  in  the 
corner  ticked  at  her  in  tones  of  exhortation,  as  if  it 
said,  "  Bet-ty,  Bet-ty,  work,  work,  work,  work."  It 
stood  on  four  legs  like  four  ninepins,  and  seemed  to 

95 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


be  holding  up  its  scanty  skirts  out  of  the  way  of  the 
mop.  John  had  pulled  up  so  near  the  window  that 
Wellington  could  put  his  head  in,  and  smell  daintily 
at  the  geraniums  which  stood  upon  the  broad  ledge, 
and  which  he  was  too  well  bred  to  bite,  while  I  studied 
the  wonderful  clock,  with  the  day  of  the  month  just 
coming  into  view  under  the  minute-hand.  Over  its 
face  was  a  small  painted  heaven,  Gothic-shaped, 
through  which  rolled  a  painted  moon,  waxing  and  wan- 
ing after  the  example  of  the  real  moon,  and,  being  then 
only  in  its  second  quarter,  it  looked  at  me  roguishly 
with  one  eye,  hiding  the  other  behind  a  painted 
thunder-cloud,  a  few  inches  square.  This  clock  played 
a  tune  always  before  striking,  and  I  devoutly  hoped 
that  John  would  prolong  his  chat  with  Betty  till  that 
time  \  indeed,  there  seemed  every  prospect  of  it,  she 
was  leaning  so  comfortably  on  her  folded  arms  between 
the  pots  of  geranium,  whose  scarlet  flowers  were  no 
redder  than  her  cheeks.  But  suddenly  distant  doors 
were  heard  to  open  and  shut,  and  a  shrill  voice  to  cry 
"  Betty !  Betty  ! "  "  The  missus  !  "  said  Betty,  and 
ran  off  in  one  direction,  while  John  spurred  his  horse 


WELLINGTON. 


in  the  other,  and  so  violently  that  the  basket  came 
very  near  flying  out  of  my  hands  and  up  among  the 
branches  of  the  old  oak  which  shaded  the  porch,  with 
its  benches  and  settles,  and  whose  arms  always  seemed 
to  be  akimbo,  they  were  so  crooked. 

On  we  went  in  the  shadow  of  the  young  plantations 

which  bounded  the  domain  of  D Park,  listening 

to  the  cawing  of  the  rooks,  above  the  loftiest  trees 
in  the  park.  Suddenly  we  heard  the  distant  voice  of 
a  lark  pulsating  in  mid -heaven.  Since  then  I  have 
heard  the  enchanting  carillons  which  float  over  the 
land  from  steeple  to  steeple  in  Belgium,  so  ravish- 
ing that  one  might  believe  the  angels  who  descended 
to  sing  of  "  Peace  and  Good-will "  had  taken  up  their 
abode  in  these  watch-towers  of  the  Lord,  and  that 
while  the  bells  ring  out  time  to  men's  ears,  they  sing 
of  eternity  to  men's  souls.  Yes,  I  have  heard  them, 
these  chimes  of  bells  and  spirits,  and  I  thought  of  the 

lark  that  I  heard  singing  in  D Park,  between  me 

and  the  sky,  on  that  morning  of  my  childhood.  It 
reminded  me  of  the  time  when  my  soul  was  lighter 
on  its  wings  than  then,  and  mounted  up  higher  to  meet 

97 


the  descending  sounds,  which  seemed  to  me  to  slide 
from  heaven. 

I  never  thought  to  ask  John  which  was  Sweetbrier 
Lane,  for  the  road  was  all  so  beautiful  that  it  deserved 
to  be  called  so  from  one  end  to  the  other.  Gentle 
verdant  slopes  stretched  away  to  the  right  hand  and 
to  the  left,  and  where  they  met  each  other,  foot  to 
foot,  a  little  thread  of  a  brook  gurgled;  so  tiny  it 
was  that  the  sun  would  have  dried  it  up  in  a  minute, 
had  not  the  water-plants  obligingly  held  their  broad 
leaves  over  it  like  so  many  green  parasols.  The 
cows  stood  up  to  their  knees  in  clover,  so  did  the 
apple-orchards.  At  one  place  we  passed  the  small- 
est of  cottages  hidden  under  the  biggest  of  cherry- 
trees,  where  two  little  white-headed  boys  were  tying 
up  deep  red  cherries  in  bunches,  for  sale.  They 
had  a  long  new  board,  full  of  holes,  into  each  of 
which  they  stuck  a  bunch  of  cherries ;  it  was  quite 
like  a  new  kind  of  garden,  perhaps  like  the  ruby 
path  in  Aladdin's  garden  of  jewels,  I  thought.  The 
boys  had  on  queer-looking  velveteen  trousers,  doubt- 
less made  out  of  a  pair  of  their  father's.  We  saw 

98 


WELLINGTON. 


him  getting  over  the  stile,  pipe  in  mouth,  a  great 
burly  man ;  one  pair  of  his  breeches  would  have 
clothed  all  Tom  Thumb's  brothers  and  sisters.  "  Weel 
done,  little  chaps,"  said  he  with  gruff  good-humor, 
as  he  passed  the  busy  white-heads ;  they  looked  up 
with  pleasant  smiles  in  their  light  blue  eyes. 

All  the  pretty  social  flowers  and  low-running  vines, 
which  in  England  love  to  stand  by  the  roadside  and 
see  the  world  under  the  shelter  of  the  hedge,  had 
their  twinkling  eyes  wide  open  this  morning,  as  if 
there  were  no  such  creatures  as  sturdy  laborers  with 
hob-nailed  shoes  to  punish  them  for  their  curiosity. 
John  held  long  conversations  with  some  of  these 
early  workmen,  often  in  the  Lancashire  dialect,  of 
which  neither  Wellington  nor  I  understood  a  single 
word.  So  much  the  better,  since  I  could  imagine, 
if  I  chose,  that  they  were  saying  eloquent  and  poet- 
ical things  to  each  other,  in  harmony  with  the  glory 
of  the  morning  and  of  my  happiness. 

At  last  we  came  to  Nanny  Baggerly's  cottage, 
which  stood  on  a  bank  near  the  highway.  Nanny 
Baggerly  was  an  old  woman  who  took,  for  a  small 

99 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


price,  poor  sickly  children  to  board,  from  the  M 

poorhouse.  They  were  brought  to  her  sallow,  ema- 
ciated, sunken-eyed,  afflicted  with  rickets,  with  sores, 
with  ophthalmia ;  fatherless,  motherless,  utterly  help- 
less, utterly  patient.  She  did  what  she  could  for 
them ;  the  food  she  gave  was  of  the  plainest  descrip- 
tion, but  it  was  wholesome;  she  turned  them  out  into 
the  fresh  air,  and  spoke  to  them  roughly,  but  kindly 
and  cheerfully.  Many  a  little  one  recovered ;  and 
from  lying  languidly  all  day  in  the  sunshine  follow- 
ing with  sad  quiet  eyes  the  gambols  of  the  others, 
and  shrinking  up  against  the  wall  if  big  Tommy  or 
rude  Sally  carne  within  a  rod  of  him,  began  at  first 
to  creep  a  little,  from  daisy  to  daisy  perhaps,  as  he 
gathered  and  held  them  loosely  in  his  nerveless  fin- 
gers ;  then  from  creeping  to  standing,  though  big 
Tommy  might  have  blown  him  over  with  his  breath 
even  when  so  far  advanced  as  that,  and  at  last,  grown 
strong  and  stout,  you  might  have  seen  him  racing 
about  with  the  rest,  and  returning  rude  Sally's  fisti- 
cuffs with  interest. 

Many  were  so  fortunate  as  to  die  and  be  buried  in 
100 


WELLINGTON. 


a  pauper's  grave,  but  it  was  a  pauper's  grave  in  the 
country,  and  dear  mother  earth  knows  no  distinctions. 
She  takes  the  poor  little  pine  box  and  the  coarse 
shroud  which  wrap  the  shrunken  beggar  child  as  ten- 
derly to  her  bosom  as  the  mahogany  coffin  and  the 
flannel  garments  of  the  rich  man's  heir.  The  violets 
and  buttercups  on  one  grave  soon  nod  merrily  to 
sister  violets  and  buttercups  on  the  other,  and  the 
bees  and  butterflies  hover  over  both.  The  big  ash 
stretches  a  long  arm  over  each,  and  the  birds 
don't  care  on  which  branch  they  happen  to  sit  and 
sing.  The  autumn  wind  wanders  and  moans  around 
each  little  mound,  and  strews  it  with  dead  leaves, 
and  in  winter  one  snowy  winding-sheet  folds  them 
both.  Perhaps  the  little  beggar  and  the  little  heir 
walk  together,  hand  in  hand,  in  the  spirit  world. 

It  is  good  for  that  child  to  die  who  lies  unwept  in 
its  coffin,  and  from  whose  meek  head  no  hand  cares 
to  sever  one  lock  of  hair. 

Death  seemed  very  far  from  Nanny  Baggerly's 
cottage,  however,  on  the  morning  when  John  and  I 
rode  past  on  Wellington.  Nobody  was  visible  but  a 
101 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


strong  brown  boy  eight  years  old,  who  was  hacking 
away  sturdily  at  a  big  cabbage  in  the  little  garden. 

"  They  '11  be  having  that  cabbage  for  dinner/' 
quoth  John.  "  Peter,  I  say/'  raising  his  voice,  — 
"  Peter,  have  you  got  the  taste  of  that  porridge  out 
of  your  mouth  yet  ?  " 

Peter  turned  fiercely  round  and  brandished  his 
knife,  but  he  could  not  resist  John's  good-natured 
grin ;  he  broke  into  a  sheepish  laugh,  and  ran  into 
the  house  as  nimbly  as  a  squirrel. 

"  What  do  you  think  the  likes  of  them  gets  for 
their  breakfasses,  miss  ?  "  said  John,  looking  down 
at  me.  "'  Milk  ! '  says  you,  I  '11  be  bound  !  Yery 
little  of  that  they  see ;  some  of  'em  don't  know  the 
taste  of  their  mother's  milk  even,  poor  lambs  !  But 
old  Nanny  stirs  'em  up  a  mess  of  oatmeal  porridge 
in  the  pot,  she  do  make  it  thick  and  stiff,  and  them 
young  uns  hovers  round  the  chimney  corner,  watch- 
ing her  stir  and  stir,  and  sniffing  up  the  steam  till 
she  has  to  tap  their  heads  with  the  porridge  stick, 
and  drive  'em  out  on  to  the  step  where  they  and  the 
chickens  huddles  up  and  peeps  in  together.  You 


WELLINGTON. 


see  the  chickens  has  the  inside  of  the  pot  to  them- 
selves after  it 's  done  with,  and  Nanny  sets  it  out 
doors.  When  the  gruel  is  so  thick  that  the  por- 
ridge stick  stands  up  straight  in  it,  Nanny  says  to 
herself,  '  That  '11  do/  and  she  pours  it  out  over  a 
big  pewter  platter,  bigger  than  Mrs.  Mason's  chop- 
ping tea-tray." 

"  Bigger  than  what?33  said  I  in  great  wonder, 
and  then  bursting  out  laughing.  "  O  John,  it  is  n't 
chopping  tea-tray,  but  Japan  tea-tray." 

"  Well  then,  jobbing  tea-tray,  it 's  all  the  same, 
miss,  and  then  she  holds  out  quite  a  fagot  of 
spoons,  and  says,  'One  at  a  time,  boys/  They 
march  in,  take  their  spoons  and  range  themselves 
in  a  circle  round  the  platter,  which  stands  on 
the  floor,  and  then  that  good  old  creetur  wipes  her 
hands  and  her  snuffy  old  nose  on  her  apron,  and 
says  grace  like  any  parson;  the  ' grace  before 
meat/  you  know,  miss,  in  the  prayer-book,  which 
begins  —  which  —  which,  in  short/'  says  John,  "I 
disremember;  but  it's  a  good  rule,  miss,  of  old 
Nanny's,  this  saying  of  grace,  it's  pious,  and  it 

103 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


gives  the  porridge  time  to  cool.  She  gives  her 
'  A  —  men '  loud  and  solemn,  like  the  clerk,  and 
then  she  cries  quite  cheerful,  'Fall  on,  boys,  and 
see  which  of  you  '11  eat  the  fastest ! '  and  faith, 
that  would  be  hard  to  say ;  it 's  gape  and  swallow 
with  'em  all,  and  rattle  your  spoon  against  the 
platter,  till  one  would  think  drum-major  and  all 
his  boys  was  coming  down  the  road.  Nanny  don't 
set  their  dish  out  to  the  chickens,  you  may  be  sure ; 
the  boys  cleans  and  polishes  it  better  than  soap  and 
sand. 

"  Well,  now,  that  little  chap  Peter  is  the  smartest 
and  cleverest  of  all  Nanny  Baggerly's  young  uns. 
It 's  he  that  makes  the  fire,  and  picks  up  chips,  and 
brings  water,  and  digs  taters  and  cabbages,  as  you 
see,  miss.  And  when  good  charitable  ladies  call 
and  bring  penny  tracts,  wot's  his  name's  hymns 
[Watts] ,  and  papers  of  buns,  and  all  the  rest  of  the 
children  huddles  into  a  corner  with  their  fists  in  their 
mouths  and  their  eyes  fit  to  drop  out  of  their  heads 
with  staring,  it 's  Peter  who  comes  forward,  makes 
his  manners,  and  says,  '  Thank  you,  ma'am ;  I  'm 

104. 


WELLINGTON. 


sure  you  're  very  good,  ma'am.'  Even  Mr.  White- 
lock  the  clergyman  don't  dash  him ;  he  takes  to  the 
gold  spectacles  and  the  gold-headed  cane  quite  nat- 
ural. He  says  off  the  Creed  and  Ten  Command- 
ments better  than  you  do,  miss/'  said  John,  laughing, 
'  begging  your  pardon,  I  'm  sure,  miss,  for  saying  so. 
He  can  tell  Mr.  Whitelock,  'Who  was  the  first 
man?'  'Who  was  the  first  murderer?'  '  Who  was 
Noah?'  'How  old  was  Methusaleh?'  And  he 
can  tell  his  own  age  and  his  name  too,  and  that 's  a 
wonderful  piece  of  knowledge  for  a  workhouse  boy. 

"  Well,  t'  other  morning,  just  as  the  porridge  was 
smoking  in  the  platter,  and  old  Nanny  had  got  as 
far  as  '  A — men,'  a  gentleman  on  horseback  stopped 
at  the  little  gate.  He  looked  up  and  down  and  all 
round  as  if  he  'd  lost  his  road,  and  then,  turning  his 
head  towards  the  cottage,  he  called  out,  '  Hallo  there, 
good  people  ! '  It  was  plain  to  see  that  he  wanted 
to  ask  his  way  to  some  place. 

" '  Eun  you,  Peter,'  said  Nanny;  'it 's  only  you 
can  make  a  decent  bow  and  give  a  decent  answer  to  a 
stranger.' 

105 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


"  Peter  looked  first  at  the  porridge  and  then  at  the 
gentleman.  He  was  one  of  those  petickler  old  bach- 
elor gentlemen  who  wear  drab  gaiters  and  starched 
neckcloths  and  pinks  in  their  button-holes ;  who  carry 
their  elbows  turned  out  stiff,  their  whips  straight  up 
and  down,  and  their  heels  sticking  against  the  sides 
of  the  horse.  Just  one  of  the  gentlemen  to  ask  forty 
questions  about  nothing  at  all,  —  Who  lives  here  ? 
Who  lives  there  ?  Where  does  that  road  take 
you  ?  Where  does  that  lane  go  ?  How  many  miles 

to  M and  B and  W and  Lord  knows 

what  number  of  places  besides. 

" '  Oh,  oh  ! '  thought  Peter,  '  the  porridge  will  all 
be  eaten  up  long  before  I  get  through  answering  that 
old  cove/ 

"  Besides  being  the  smartest  boy  of  the  lot,  Peter  was 
always  the  hungriest,  and  that  morning  he  was  mighty 
sharp  set,  for  he  'd  been  working  in  the  tater  patch 
and  had  just  run  in,  his  feet  covered  with  black  mould. 
f  Halloo  ! '  cried  the  gentleman  again,  in  a  terribly  loud 
voice  and  quite  purple  in  the  face  with  impatience. 
'  Halloo  up  there  !  are  ye  all  deaf  or  dead  ? ' 

106 


WELLINGTON. 


"' Goodness  gracious/  cries  Nanny.  'Run  this 
blessed  minute,  Peter,  or  he  '11  ride  up  to  the  door  over 
the  cabbages/  Peter  casts  another  glance  at  the  por- 
ridge upon  which  the  boys  were  just  throwing  them- 
selves, and  then  without  saying  a  word  he  claps  his  bare 
foot  right  down  in  the  middle  of  the  dish  quick  as  a 
flash,  and  then  runs  off  like  a  greyhound.*  There  was 
the  print  of  his  foot  left  in  the  porridge  just  as  black 
and  distinct,  thanks  to  the  garden  mould,  as  them  pencil 
picters  of  Mr.  Freeman's  ;  heel  and  toes  and  the  marks 
in  the  rough  skin,  all  as  natural  and  as  dirty  as  life. 
More  than  that,  Peter  had  cut  his  foot  against  a  sharp 
stone  so  that  it  was  bleeding  a  little.  That  looked  as 
if  one  had  used  a  red  lead-pencil  as  well  as  a  black 
one  about  that  queer  drawing.  If  it  had  not  been 
for  the  red  lead-pencil,  I  do  believe  the  boys  would 
have  devoured  every  morsel  of  Peter's  foot,  but  they 
could  not  stand  that.  So  they  ate  round  it  as  close 
as  they  could  get,  and  polished  the  rest  of  the  dish  as 
usual.  When  Peter  came  back  he  found  his  foot 
waiting  for  him,  right  in  the  middle  of  the  shining 
*  A  fact. 
107 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


platter ;  he  swallowed  it  all  down  in  a  moment,  a  toe 
at  each  mouthful ;  there 's  no  such  word  as  dirt  for 
hungry  people,  miss.  Old  Nanny  chuckled,  and 
laughed  to  herself  over  the  boy's  coolness ;  she  took 
him  one  side,  and  gave  him  a  hunk  of  barley  bread 
to  top  off  with.  Old  cove  gave  him  a  penny  too  — 
Hulloo,  what 's  that  ?  " 

We  were  on  the  M turnpike,  just  where  the 

road  makes  a  sudden  bend,  when  we  heard  a  great 
confused  noise  which  made  John  stop  short  in  his 
story.  I  immediately  thought  of  the  drum-major 
whom  Nanny  Baggerly's  children  imitated  so  well, 
but  on  turning  the  corner,  behold  !  not  only  the  drum- 
major  and  his  boys,  but  the  rest  of  the  band,  and  half 
the  boys  and  girls  of  M besides,  who  were  fol- 
lowing a  regiment  just  marching  out  of  M on 

its  way  to  distant  quarters.  It  had  been  a  very 
popular  regiment  with  the  townspeople,  and  though 
orders  were  given  for  an  early  march  in  order  to  avoid 
leave-takings,  a  crowd  of  the  sorrowful  populace  came 
out  for  the  sake  of  accompanying  them  a  few  miles 
on  their  way.  It  was  an  interesting  sight.  Many 

108 


WELLINGTON. 


platoons  and  here  and  there  a  whole  company  marched 
along  with  stern  resolution,  doing  their  best  to  keep 
up  the  dignity  of  the  procession,  looking  neither  to 
the  right  hand  nor  to  the  left,  and  carrying  themselves, 
as  well  as  their  guns  and  accoutrements,  with  military 
uprightness.  But  great  numbers  of  the  younger  men 
had  left  the  ranks,  and  were  walking  arm  in  arm  with 
groups  of  workmen  and  artisans.  Many  reeled  and 
staggered  very  unsteadily,  and  there  was  a  great  deal 
of  embracing  and  shedding  of  tears,  as  much  owing 
to  gin  as  to  sentiment.  Some  soldiers  were  beset  by 
clamorous  and  eager  men,  low  tavern-keepers  and  the 
like,  seeking  to  get  their  bills  paid,  —  dirty  strips  of 
paper  which  they  flourished  before  the  eyes  of  their 
debtors,  who  walked  doggedly  along,  secure  of  tiring 
out  these  creditors  at  last.  Often  you  might  see  a 
young  girl  weeping,  with  her  apron  thrown  over  her 
head,  her  lover  doing  his  best  to  comfort  her,  and 
thrusting  the  last  penny  of  his  pay  into  her  passive 
hand.  One  poor  thing,  who  stood  quite  near  us, 
sobbed  out  so  pitifully,  over  and  over  again,  "  I  '11 
never  see  you  any  more,  Jem;  you'll  never  come 

109 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


anigh  me  again,  Jem ;  you  '11  soon  forget  me,  Jem ; 
will  you  be  sartain  sure  to  write  me  Jem?  "  that  I  began 
to  cry  too,  and  to  shout  out  a  series  of  answers  to  these 
sorrowful  forebodings  by  way  of  consoling  her.  "  You 
will,  he  will,  he  won't,  he  will"  There  was  such  a 
noise  that  nobody  heard  me  but  John,  who  laughed 
heartily.  Now  and  then  we  passed  a  couple  taking 
leave  of  each  other  in  a  more  sensible  way,  married 
people  evidently,  with  little  ones  fast  asleep  at  that 

time  probably  in  some  garret  at  M She  perhaps 

was  to  keep  a  shop  or  take  in  washing  while  her  hus- 
band was  off  sogering,  and  they  were  too  busily  talk- 
ing over  their  plans  to  have  time  or  heart  for  grieving. 
Their  anxious  faces  would  have  been  less  sad  to  look 
upon  if  they  had  overflowed  with  tears. 

Looming  up  high  above  all  heads  towered  the  great 
baggage-wagons,  packed,  piled,  and  heaped  with  lug- 
gage, which  was  strapped,  chained,  and  fastened  in 
every  conceivable  way.  All  sorts  of  pots,  pans,  and  ket- 
tles dangled  and  jangled  from  the  sides  with  stunning 
discord,  while  perched  upon  -  the  very  top  sat  the  few 
soldiers'  wives  who  were  allowed  to  follow  the  camp, 
110 


WELLINGTON. 


rolled  up  in  scarlet  cloaks  with  hoods,  which  were 
drawn  over  their  heads.  Bronzed,  weather-beaten 
women  they  were,  bantering  the  crowd  below  with 
harsh,  cracked  voices.  Some  had  children  in  their 
laps,  all  were  smoking  short  pipes,  and  in  the  violence 
of  their  gesticulations  they  seemed  just  ready  to  throw 
both  children  and  pipes  among  the  joking  rabble. 
Pedlers  and  venders  of  all  kinds  of  eatables  and 
drinkables  trudged  wearily  by  the  side  of  the  wagons, 
and  some  half-starved  dogs  kept  equal  step  with  them 
underneath.  You  could  hardly  hear  above  the  din 
the  drums,  fifes,  and  trumpets  of  the  band  playing 
lively  tunes  to  cheer  up  the  spirits  of  the  men.  No- 
body listened  to  them  except  the  mob  of  boys  and 
girls  who  followed  in  a  sort  of  long  trot,  with  ragged 
pinafores  and  mouths  full  of  toffy. 

No  common  horse  could  have  faced  for  a  moment 
this  disorderly  multitude.  When  quiet  people,  jog- 
ging along  in  their  carriages  or  on  horseback,  beheld 
from  afar  off  a  marching  regiment  approach,  they 
vanished  hurriedly  down  by-lanes  and  cross-roads, 
or  fairly  turned  about  and  rode  back  as  fast  as  possible. 
111 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


But  Wellington,  the  old  charger,  was  in  his  element. 
The  moment  he  heard  the  drum  and  fife  he  pricked 
up  his  ears,  and  gave  a  loud  snort  of  satisfaction,  which 
came  from  his  inmost  heart,  arched  his  neck  proudly, 
and  began  to  thread  his  way  steadily  among  the  throng. 
His  eyes  shone  as  brightly  as  the  bayonets,  as  he 
stared  about  wistfully  among  the  soldiers,  and  with 
short,  cheerful  neighs  seemed  to  ask,  "  What  cheer, 
comrades,  what  cheer  ?"  He  looked  at  the  scarlet 
cloaks  and  the  lean  dogs  as  one  who  knows  them  of 
old,  and  he  showed  a  noble  patience  with  the  teasing 
rabble,  who  recklessly  tickled  him  with  straws  or 
shook  their  greasy  hats  in  his  face.  If  a  child  fell 
down  between  his  feet,  he  waited  for  it  to  get  up ;  if 
a  man  ran  against  him,  he  moved  carefully  out  of  his 
way. 

In  the  midst  of  all  this,  I  hardly  know  how,  we 
smarted  off  full  gallop  down  a  shady  lane  which 
opened  suddenly  to  the  right.  When  we  slackened 
our  pace,  the  din  and  dust  and  tumult  had  passed 
away  like  a  dream,  and  we  were  crossing  the  willow- 
shaded  brook  according  to  Mrs.  Mason's  directions. 

112 


WELLINGTON. 


The  unexpected  change  made  it  seem  more  beautiful 
even  than  I  had  fancied ;  the  grand  old  willow  hung 
with  a  sort  of  silent  passion  over  the  water,  as  if 
enchanted  with  its  never-ending  story ;  some  of  the 
boughs  trailed  out  on  the  current  at  full  length,,  others 
only  reached  down  far  enough  to  touch  the  foaming 
crest  of  each  little  wavelet  as  it  hurried  off.  The 
pools  were  full  of  fallen  leaves,  tiny  archipelagoes  of 
small  green  islands,  and  a  few  slender  bare  wand- 
like  limbs  moved  mysteriously  along  the  water  as  if 
writing  secrets  on  its  fickle  heart.  What  a  curious 
willow  it  was  !  All  the  lower  limbs  brooded  in 
constant  shade  over  the  water,  and  knew  nothing  but 
the  brook,  while  the  topmost  branches,  quite  out  of 
its  sight,  grew  straight  up  into  the  sunshine,  and 
knew  nothing  but  the  summer  wind  which  piped 
merrily  to  them  as  they  danced. 

A's  we  approached  our  journey's  end  the  hedges 
began  to  be  full  of  blackberry-bushes.  What  child 
of  my  age  could  see  blackberry-bushes  without  think- 
ing of  the  babes  in  the  wood  ?  And  as  it  was  my 
habit  to  be  constantly  imagining  myself  somebody 

113 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


else,  of  course  I  immediately  became  little  Jane  rid- 
ing "  upon  Cock  horse  "  to  London  before  the  good 
robber. 

"John/'  I  broke  out  abruptly,  after  a  few  mo- 
ments of  intense  thinking,  "let's  play  my  brother 
William  is  riding  behind  us,  that's  the  reason  we 
can't  see  him ;  let 's  play  the  wicked  robber  is  mak- 
ing horrible  faces  at  us  over  William's  head.  Let 's 
play  that  you  two  ruffians  are  going  to  fight,  as 
soon  as  we  get  to  the  wood.  How  we  babes  shall 
cry  and  cry!"  continued  I,  opening  my  handkerchief, 
printed  with  Dr.  Franklin's  maxims.  "  But  you  must 
n't  mind  that,  you  must  go  off  to  get  us  some  bread, 
and  we  shall  wait  and  wait  —  " 

During  this  speech,  delivered  with  great  energy, 
John's  countenance  had  exhibited  the  extreme  of 
bewilderment,  but  here  a  sudden  light  broke  in  upon 
him.  "  Certainly,  miss,  with  all  the  pleasure  in  life. 
I  '11  get  you  a  piece  of  bread  the  moment  we  reach 
the  farm,  and  there  's  the  house,  sure  enough,  before 
us.  Wait  ?  yes,  so  you  have  waited  and  waited  as  pa- 
tient as  a  lamb,  miss,  and  very  hungry  you  must  be  ! 

114 


WELLINGTON. 


How  stupid  of  me  never  to  fetch  you  a  bit  of  bread 
before  we  started !  But  Dame  Jenkins  shall  cut 
you  off  a  corner  of  the  brown  loaf  in  a  jiffy." 

A  few  rods  down  a  steep  winding  cart-road,  and 
we  stopped  at  the  farmhouse,  a  low  broad  stone  cot- 
tage deep  sunk  in  the  rich  grass  of  a  little  glade 
which  opened  out  upon  the  brook.  There  was  just 
room  for  the  diamond-paned  windows  to  peep  out 
between  the  overhanging  thatch  and  the  profusion 
of  gillyflowers,  balsams,  and  London  pride,  which 
blossomed  luxuriantly  up  to  the  very  sills.  The 
walls  seemed  to  have  been  built  for  no  other  purpose 
than  to  train  vines  upon,  they  were  so  overrun  with 
homely  English  creepers,  woodbines,  honeysuckles, 
morning-glories,  scarlet  runners,  all  climbing  in  a 
rich  tangle  together  up  over  the  roof,  blossoming 
among  the  mosses  of  the  thatch,  and  garlanding  the 
massive  chimney.  They  hung  so  thickly  down  from 
the  porch  that  Dame  Jenkins's  white  cap  was  lost 
among  them,  as  she  stood  there  to  welcome  us,  and 
only  her  friendly  eyes  were  visible  under  the  clus- 
tering leaves.  Two  or  three  blackbirds  and  finches 

115 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


sung  rapturously  in  wicker  cages  hidden  beneath 
this  greenery;  a  half-open  casement  discovered 
glimpses  of  a  dark  oaken-panelled  kitchen,  every 
panel  reflecting  a  ruddy  gleam  of  the  firelight  from 
the  stone  hearth.  Thickets  of  laurels,  lilacs,  rose- 
bushes surrounded  the  house,  and  a  pair  of  gigantic 
lime-trees  hung  their  branches  like  a  great  green 
dome,  high  above  all,  under  which  the  sunshine 
and  fresh  air  played  freely.  This  was  my  first  visit 
to  the  mill-farm,  but  by  no  means  the  last,  and  I 
learned  its  beauties  by  heart. 

John  would  not  let  me  go  into  the  house  with 
him ;  perhaps  he  was  afraid  I  might  repeat  to  his 
sweetheart  Mary  the  fine  speeches  he  made  to  Dame 
Jenkins's  granddaughter.  He  set  me  on  the  top  of 
a  lofty  gate-post  under  an  acacia-tree  which  swung  a 
heavy  cluster  of  snow-white  flowers  right  above  my 
head ;  a  great  yellow  bee  was  thrusting  himself  into 
them,  and  his  buzzing  made  me  look  up.  "0 
John,"  cried  I,  in  ecstasy,  "  is  n't  it  like  papa's  ruf- 
fled shirt-front  with  a  big  gold  broach  stuck  in  !  " 

"Eat  your  bread  and  butter,  miss/'  said  John,  sen- 

116 


WELLINGTON. 


tentiously,  putting  a  piece  in  my  hand,  which  he  left 
me  to  dispose  of  at  my  leisure.  It  was  a  piece  al- 
most too  large  for  me  to  grasp,  nevertheless  I  went 
bravely  to  work  to  make  it  smaller,  feasting  my  eyes 
all  the  time  upon  the  charming  objects  around  me, 
above  all,  the  old  water-mill.  It  stood  just  opposite 
to  me  on  the  other  side  of  the  brook,  and  at  first  I  was 
bitterly  disappointed  to  find  it  was  a  ruin ;  the  longer 
I  looked  at  it,  however,  the  more  it  grew  upon  me, 
and  at  length  I  became  absorbed  in  it,  and  under- 
stood its  picturesque  beauty.  Its  gray  crumbling 
walls  were  buried  in  the  deep  shadow  of  a  very  steep 
bank  which  overhung  the  stream,  running  in  at  this 
place  like  a  tiny  bay  upon  a  tiny  beach  of  pebbles. 
The  broad  sloping  roof  leaned  against  this  bank,  and 
so  much  earth  had  slipped  down  upon  it,  that  it  was 
covered  as  thickly  with  wood  plants  and  wild  flowers 
as  the  hillside  above  it,  and  seemed  almost  a  part  of 
it.  Moss  dropped  from  the  old  wheel  instead  of 
water,  and  blossomed  delicately  among  the  crevices 
of  the  broken  steps.  Roof,  walls,  and  wheel,  bank 
and  bay  and  beach,  rose  before  me  in  the  dark  trans- 

117 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


parent  freshness  of  the  early  morning  shadows ;  the 
ruin  fairly  dripped  with  dew  from  its  hanging  masses 
of  greenery.  The  babbling,  brawling  brook  scam- 
pered past  it,  flouting  its  patient  decay  like  the 
naughty  boys  in  story-books  —  not  in  real  life  I  am 
sure — who  mock  at  old  age.  So  I  looked,  and  I  ate; 
and  I  heard  the  doves  cooing,  and  the  bees  humming 
in  the  bean-field.  Dame  Jenkins's  granddaughter 
brought  me  a  glass  of  new  milk ;  "  just  from  the 
cow,  miss,"  she  said.  I  was  ashamed  to  say  I 
did  not  like  it,  because  I  remembered  that  in  my 
story-books,  when  the  children  had  been  particularly 
good,  their  mammas  would  say,  "  My  dears,  you 
have  behaved  so  well  that  I  will  let  you  go  down 
to  see  Betty  milk,  and  you  may  take  your  mugs 
and  get  a  draught  warm  from  the  cow!3  Drink- 
ing new  milk  was  always  associated  in  my  mind 
with  excellent  spelling-lessons,  neatly  hemmed  hand- 
kerchiefs, proper  behavior  in  general.  You  see  my 
head  was  full  of  my  story-books,  and  I  could  not 
help  thinking  of  them  on  all  occasions. 

When  John  and  I  were  ready  to  start  again,  Dame 

118 


WELLINGTON. 


Jenkins  came  out  and  reached  up  to  us  our  basket, 
quite  full  of  eggs,  lying  among  tufts  of  fresh  grass. 
She  talked  to  me  in  a  very  cajoling,  nattering  manner, 
and  I  did  n't  know  whether  I  ought  to  feel  offended 
or  pleased. 

"  You  're  a  dear/'  she  drawled  out,  in  the  same  sort 
of  voice  that  Mary  used  to  the  baby,  "  you  're  a 
little  angel,  bless  your  bonny  mouth  and  your  rosy 
cheeks ;  you  're  mamma's  beautiful  darling,  I  'm  sure ; 
did  n't  you  know  you  was  a  duck  of  a  pretty  little 
dear  ?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am/'  said  I,  with  modest  assurance,  feeling 
some  misgivings,  though,  on  account  of  my  hasty 
toilet. 

She  laughed,  and  patted  my  hand  with  her  skinny 
palm ;  it  felt  like  the  claws  of  the  dead  fowls  which 
Mrs.  Mason  sometimes  gave  me  to  play  with,  and 
which  I  worked  up  and  down  by  pulling  the  tendon  of 
the  leg. 

John  found  the  basket  and  the  bridle  together  quite 
too  much  for  him  to  manage,  and,  having  full  con- 
fidence in  Wellington,  he  transferred  the  latter  to 

119 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


me.  Imagine  my  pride  and  exaltation  !  I  remember 
nothing  of  the  ride  home  except  a  great  feeling  of 
responsibility,  which  made  me  keep  my  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  bridle  and  the  horse's  ears ;  of  course  I 
pulled  and  twitched,  and  made  use  of  all  the  jocky 
sounds  and  phrases  with  which  my  memory  supplied 
me,  all  of  which  Wellington  bore  with  the  utmost 
patience.  I  had  enjoyed  such  a  great  variety  of  new 
experiences,  that  I  felt  as  if  I  had  been  gone  from 
home  a  great  while,  and  expected  to  be  received  with 
acclamations  of  delight  as  a  traveller.  I  had  forgotten 
quite  that  I  was  a  naughty  girl.  It  was  odd  to  see, 
as  we  rode  back  into  the  yard,  the  usual  morning's 
work  going  on,  and  to  find  the  day  just  begun  at  our 
house,  which  had  already  been  so  long  for  me.  Jane 
was  sweeping  the  hall,  Anne  was  coming  down  stairs 
in  all  the  dignity  of  six  elaborate  curls  and  a  clean 
starched  pinafore.  I  could  see  mamma  making  tea  in 
the  parlor.  Mary  came  out,  exclaiming,  "  Well,  miss, 
a  fine  trick  you  *ve  been  playing  !  I  wonder  you  're 
not  ashamed  of  yourself,  John  Cookson  !  Good  gra- 
cious, what  a  dowdy  and  a  fright  you  do  look,  miss  !  " 
120 


WELLINGTON. 


Mamma  scanned  me  from  head  to  foot,  and  her 
glances  expressed  very  emphatically  the  same  opinion. 
She  told  me  if  I  ever  did  so  again,  she  would  punish 
me  very  severely. 

Ah,  forgive  me,  dear  mamma,  that  I  felt  neither 
guilty  nor  repentant.  As  I  stood  silent  before  you, 
I  dare  say  you  thought  me  sorry  and  ashamed.  The 
severest  punishment,  even  your  serious  displeasure, 
would  not  have  weighed  for  a  moment  against  the 
glory  and  the  happiness  which  I  had  been  enjoying 
in  getting  acquainted  with  nature,  and  which  I  enjoy 
in  recollection  to  this  day.  I  could  not  help  it,  mam- 
ma !  Little  children,  can  you  conceive  of  a  little  girl 
so  naughty? 


121 


Y. 


BIRKENHEAD. 

IE  had  just  taken  possession  of  our  seaside 
lodgings  at  Birkenhead.  Anne  and  I  stood 
at  the  parlor  window,  looking  out  eagerly  upon  the 
river  Mersey,  that  rolled  its  muddy  waters  between 
us  and  the  city  of  Liverpool.  It  was  alive  with 
vessels  of  every  sort  and  size,  and  our  active  imagina- 
tions soon  began  to  personify  them. 

"  Anne/"'  I  said,  "  do  you  see  those  very  big  ships, 
with  their  sails  beginning  to  sprout  out  of  their 
masts?  Well,  mamma  told  me  just  now  they  are 
going  perhaps  to  America,  where  our  relations  live. 
Do  you  see  those  steamboats,  vomiting  black  smoke, 
like  Apollyon  ?  " 

"  0,  don't !  "  cried  little  Anne,  covering  her  eyes, 
for  it  so  happened  that  we  possessed  a  very  old  copy 
122 


B1RKENHEAD. 


of  the  "  Pilgrim's  Progress/''  with  such  a  hideous 
picture  of  Apollyon  spitting  out  fire  and  smoke 
that  Anne  could  never  bear  to  look  at  it. 

"  Well,  then,  they  're  not  vomiting  black  smoke, 
like  old  Apollyon,  but  they  're  nasty  things  for  all 
that.  Mamma  says  it 's  rude  to  point,  and  every  one 
of  'em  looks  as  if  it  was  pointing  out  a  big,  long, 
dirty  black  finger  at  something  behind  it.  0,  I'll 
tell  you  what.  The  steamers  run  about  like  cater- 
pillars, and  the  ships  are  like  moths  opening  their 
white  wings." 

"I  like  the  little  ships  the  best,"  said  Anne, 
"  let 's  count  'em.  Three  over  there,  and  two  there, 
and  one  just  here,  and  one,  two,  three,  four,  —  there 
and  there  —  " 

"  But  see,  Anne,  two  such  tiny,  tiny  black  boats, 
quite  close  to  our  side  of  the  river.  They  're  start- 
ing to  run  over  to  Liverpool,  I  verily  believe ;  yes, 
there  they  go,  each  of  'em  with  a  great  red  sail ; 
don't  they  look  like  two  butterflies  sailing  on  chips  ? 
Now  I  wonder  which  will  get  t'  other  side  of  the 
river  first  ?  Let 's  play  one  of  'em  was  yours,  and 

123 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


t'  other  mine.  One  of  them  has  a  long  red  streamer 
top  o'  the  mast ;  that  shall  be  mine.  No,  Anne,  you 
may  have  it,  because  it  's  the  prettiest,  and  we  '11  call 
him  Eed  Cap,  and  mine  shall  be  Bald  Head,  because 
it  has  n't  any  streamer,  only  that  big  round  knob 
stuck  up  on  the  mast.  Bald  Head 's  a  Bible  name, 
too;  it 's  what  those  impolite  children  called  Elisha, 
you  know,  just  because  he  had  n't  a  wig  on  !  Now, 
Anne,  say,  —  which  do  you  bet  will  sail  fastest,  you 
or  me,  —  I  mean  your  Eed  Cap  or  my  Bald  Head  ? 
I  '11  bet  you  'most  any  thing  Bald  Head  will  get  over 
to  Liverpool  first.  Now  what  will  you  give  me  if  he 
does  ?  Say  quick,  because  I  verily  believe  he  's  ahead 
already." 

"  0  dear,"  said  little  Anne.  "  I  have  n't  a  single 
thing  here  to  give  you  for  a  bet.  Mamma  would  n't 
like  me  to  cut  off  one  of  my  six  curls,  or  pull  out  one 
of  my  shoe-strings." 

"  No,  child,"  I  cried  impatiently,  "  I  don't  want 
anything  splendid;  just  give  me  that  bit  of  red 
yarn  you  've  been  twisting  up  in  your  fingers,  }i  will 
make  my  dolly  a  pair  of  garters.  Ah  ha  !  I  'm  first, 

124 


BIEKENHEAD. 


I  'm  first !  I  see  old  Bald  Head's  skull  bobbing  up 
and  down  ever  so  far  ahead  of  Red  Cap.  Hurra ! 
What  do  you  say  now,  Miss  Nancy  ?  how  do  you  feel 
now  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  want  you  to  beat;"  said  little  Anne, 
sweetly.  "  It  is  only  fair,  because  you  gave  me  the 
prettiest  boat." 

"  You  darling  thing  ! "  I  exclaimed.  ' '  Now  I 
wouldn't  get  ahead  of  you  for  the  world.  Here, 
take  back  the  garters!  I  don't  want  'em.  I  don't 
want  to  beat  truly,  and  I  hardly  believe  I  'm  going  to 
after  all.  I  don't  know  what's  come  to  old  Bald 
Head ;  he  's  standing  still,  I  verily  do  believe,  and 
Bed  Cap 's  jumping  along  from  one  wave  to  another 
like  a  kangaroo.  You  're  going  to  beat  me  after  all, 
and  I  'm  just  as  glad  as  if  mamma  had  let  me  eat 
that  dear  little  raw  onion  that  Mary  was  going  to  put 
into  the  salad  yesterday.  Don't  I  like  'em,  —  raw 
onions,  teenty  taunty  ones,  I  mean  !  Halloo !  why, 
Bald  Head 's  taken  in  his  sail.  Don't  his  skull 
look  funny  atop  of  that  great  spine-bone  of  a  mast  ? 
He  looks  like  a  s&ullenton  sure  enough,  now 

125 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


there  's  nothing  of  him  but  one  bare  pole.  Ain't  I 
funny,  Nancy  my  dear  ?  And  you  're  ahead  of  me, 
and  you  need  not  deny  it,  for  I  'm  older  than  you, 
and  I  can  see  better,  for  my  eyes  are  larger.  Three 
cheers  for  Nancy  Red  Cap  !  " 

Then  I  snatched  off  my  pinafore,  waving  it  wildly 
and  shouting,  exhilarated  by  the  sea-air  which  blew 
freshly  into  the  window. 

Mary,  coming  up  behind  me,  seized  hold  of  my 
pinafore  and  held  it  over  my  mouth  tightly. 

"  What  a  racket  you  've  been  making,  you  naughty 
child !  will  you  be  quiet  with  your  Red  Caps  and 
Bald  Heads  ?  You  're  as  noisy,  I  'm  sure,  as  one  of 
them  boys  that  the  bear  eat  up,  and  serve  'em  right, 
and  you  too,  if  you  don't  behave  prettier.  You 
make  more  noise  than  six  bears  growling.  I  wonder 
what  my  last  missus  would  say  to  you,  — my  missus 
before  I  came  here ;  your  mamma 's  too  good  to  you. 
My  last  missus,  Mrs.  'ixou's  Miss  Malviny  'ixon, 
was  as  quiet  as  a  little  mouse.  If  she  ever  laughed 
loud  even,  her  mamma  would  say,  '  Malviny,  is  that 
behaving  like  a  lady?'" 

126 


BIRKENHEAD. 


I  always  wondered  at  the  rapidity  with  which  Mary 
ran  off  that  difficult  sentence,  which  was  always  at  the 
end  of  her  tongue,  —  "  My  last  missus,  Mrs.  'ixon's 
Miss  Malviny  "  —  for  that  young  lady  was  so  often 
held  up  to  us  as  an  example  that  her  very  name  got 
to  be  exasperating. 

As  soon  as  I  could  free  my  mouth  from  the  pina- 
fore and  find  my  breath,  therefore,  I  cried  out,  — 

"  Why  don't  you  go  back  to  your  Miss  Malviny, 
if  you  like  her  so  well?  I  'm  sure  we  would  n't  care, 
would  we,  Anne  ?  We  would  n't  cry,  we  would  n't 
tease  you  to  come  back.  She  's  still  as  a  mouse,  is 
she,  your  Miss  Malviny  ?  I  should  like  to  be  a  cat 
and  jump  upon  her,  she  'd  make  a  noise  once  in  her 
life,  then ;  how  she  'd  squeal  when  I  pounced  upon 
her  with  my  claws  spread  out,  so /"  I  added,  opening 
and  shutting  my  fingers,  making  them  look  as  much 
like  Apollyon's  crooked  talons,  in  the  picture,  as  pos- 
sible, and  drawing  my  face  into  a  likeness  of  an  en- 
raged cat,  as  I  hoped.  "And  her  mamma  would  peep 
out  from  behind  the  wainscot,  —  she  '11  be  a  mouse 
too,  of  course, —  and  she  'd  say,  '  Malviny,  stand  still 

127 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


and  be  eaten  up  like  a  lady,  and  squeak  softly/ 
Then  I  'd  craunch  her  bones,"  I  added,  gnashing  my 
teeth  savagely. 

Indeed  I  was  a  very  rude,  naughty  child,  and  iny 
impertinence  to  Mary  was  very  "  wulgar,"  as  Mrs. 
Hixon  might  have  said.  But  when  Mary  placed  a 
sudden  check  on  my  excited  spirits,  they  were  apt 
to  explode  in  a  burst  of  indignation  or  vent  them- 
selves in  extravagant  nonsense.  This  time  I  rattled 
on,  quite  indifferent  to  Mary's  solemn  looks  of  horror : 
"  O  Anne,  don't  you  remember  at  Monsieur  Champ- 
fort's,  how  funny  it  was  to  see  Malvina  Hixon  dance  ? 
How  she  jumped  up,  and  flung  her  arms  and  legs 
about  in  such  a  limp  way,  like  a  Merry  Andrew  !  If 
I  had  her  here,  I  'd  pin  her  up  to  the  wall,  and  tie 
the  skipping-rope  to  her,  and  jerk  her.  And  her 
hair,  her  red  hair,  Anne,  don't  you  remember  how  it 
used  to  fly,  fly  up  in  the  air  when  she  was  dancing, 
like  a  haystack  in  flames,  and  how  it  nearly  caught 
upon  the  chandelier  ?  O,  she  '11  hang  up  there  like 
Absalom  some  day,  and  Monsieur  Champfort  will  take 
his  fiddle-bow  and  pierce  her." 

128 


BIEKENHEAD. 


In  the  midst  of  this  nonsense  I  skipped  about  in 
imitation  of  Malvina  Hixon,  tossing  my  own  hair  till 
Mary's  nice  handiwork  of  curls  was  all  in  confusion, 
and  getting  behind  the  tables  and  chairs  when  she 
tried  to  catch  me,  some  of  which  I  overturned  in  my 
hurry. 

"  I  don't  know  what  ever  will  become  of  you, 
miss,"  she  said  at  last,  quite  exhausted  with  the  chase, 
—  "I  don't  know,  really." 

"'You  don't  know,  and  I  don't  care,'"  cried  I, 
quoting  from  "  Mother  Goose." 

"( Don't  care'  came  to  the  gallows,  miss,"  said 
Mary,  gravely. 

The  door  opened.  "  Breakfast !  "  cried  I,  emerg- 
ing from  under  the  sofa,  where  I  had  taken  final 
refuge.  This  was  our  first  breakfast  at  Birkenhead, 
so  of  course  we  had  a  great  many  observations  to 
make  on  the  new  and  strange  surroundings.  First, 
we  took  a  prolonged  survey  of  the  servant  who 
brought  in  the  tray ;  she  was  a  hard-worked-looking 
girl,  with  a  very  hurried  manner,  as  lodging-house  ser- 
vants are  apt  to  have.  Her  cap  was  crumpled,  and 

129 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


her  faded  dress  neatly  mended  with  bright  new 
pieces.  As  she  arranged  the  table,  she  glanced  at 
the  disordered  room,  and  then  at  me,  with  hair  and 
dress  equally  disordered;  she  picked  up  the  chairs 
which  I  had  thrown  down  in  trying  to  escape  from 
Mary,  and  then,  in  a  very  significant  way,  she  took 
from  the  mantelpiece  a  couple  of  china  shepherdesses, 
a  gilt  mug,  and  a  match-box ;  put  them  into  her  blue 
apron,  and  disappeared,  with  another  look  at  my  tum- 
bled condition. 

"She  thinks  you  look  like  a  regular  furniture- 
smasher,  miss,"  said  Mary,  "and  no  wonder.  She 
would  n't  trust  you  even  with  an  empty  blacking- 
bottle.  She'll  tell  her  missus  of  you,  and  them 
overset  chairs  will  be  put  down  in  the  bill.  I  dare 
say  you  've  cracked  some  of  *em." 

This  was  a  mortifying  idea,  and  in  order  to  get  rid 
of  it,  I  began  an  inspection  of  the  crockery.  A  little 
blue  landscape  was  painted  in  the  bottom  of  each 
bowl,  —  blue  clouds,  blue  lake  dotted  with  blue  sails, 
blue  mountains,  a  blue  gentleman  with  a  blue  feather 
and  a  blue  guitar,  serenading  a  blue  lady,  who  looked 

130 


BIEKENHEAD. 


out  of  the  window  of  a  blue  tower,  shaded  by  a  grove 
of  blue  trees.  "  O  Anne,"  cried  I,  "  this  is  Lake 
Como !  See,  it 's  printed  in  blue  letters !  Don't  speak 
to  me ;  I  'm  going  there/'' 

So  I  put  my  face  close  to  the  bowl,  shading  my 
eyes  with  my  hands,  that  I  might  see  nothing  but  the 
picture.  Gradually  the  landscape  enlarged  till  every 
feature  took  the  size  of  nature ;  the  blue  melted  into 
greens  and  browns,  and  in  fancy  I  was  standing  on 
the  shore  of  the  sleeping  lake,  whose  wavelets  crept  to 
my  feet  with  the  softest  rippling  sound ;  the  moun- 
tain flung  its  grim  shadow  across  the  water,  while  its 
bare  head  glowed  in  the  sun;  the  branches  of  the  Ital- 
ian pines  stirred  mysteriously  to  the  hurrying  breeze, 
which  set  all  the  light  foliage  that  fringed  the  bank 
into  a  tremor ;  the  lateen-sails  bent,  some  one  way, 
some  another ;  the  guitar  tinkled ;  and  the  plumed 
cavalier  sang  out,  "  O  pescator  del  onda,  fi  da  lin  lin 
IB, I"  I  repeated  over  and  over  to  myself  in  a  whis- 
per, Como  !  Como  !  The  word  contained  a  thousand 
pictures  for  me.  Just  at  this  moment  Mary  inserted 
the  nose  of  the  milk-pitcher  between  my  face  and  the 

131 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


bowl,  and  a  stream  of  milk  poured  down  upon  Como, 
drowning  the  lady  and  gentleman,  overwhelming  the 
tower  and  the  pines,  and  covering  the  top  of  the 
mountain.  It  was  a  second  Deluge,  and  I  set  myself 
busily  to  work  with  my  spoon  to  eat  down  to  the 
landscape  again. 

"I  like  this  house,"  said  I  to  Anne.  "I've 
looked  into  the  wash-basins,  and  they're  quite  as 
pretty  as  mamma's  wash-basins  at  home." 

In  those  days  it  was  the  fashion  to  cover  the  bottom 
of  wash-basins  with  pictures  of  beautiful  scenery,  — 
castles,  parks,  rocks,  waterfalls,  meadows,  with  sheep 
and  shepherds,  forests  with  deer  and  huntsmen,  —  and 
sometimes  with  battles,  shipwrecks,  and  sieges,  while 
just  inside  the  brim  heavy  garlands  of  flowers,  nearly 
as  large  as  life,  were  painted,  overhanging  cascades 
and  fortresses,  and,  bending  down  towards  wounded 
soldiers,  flying  deer  or  piping  shepherds,  as  the  case 
might  be.  I  had  read  of  the  sultan  who  met  with 
the  most  wonderful  adventures  and  saw  the  most 
glorious  sights  merely  in  consequence  of  plunging  his 
head  into  a  pail  of  water.  For  a  minute  I  could  very 

132 


BIRKENHEAD. 


well  believe  it,  for  a  wash-basin  was  quite  enough  for 
my  imagination ;  many  and  many  an  hour  it  spent, 
tangled  up  among  the  flowers,  or  living  and  wander- 
ing among  scenes  of  indescribable  beauty  and  splen- 
dor, all  suggested  by  the  pictured  bowl  over  which 
my  dirty  face  was  bending,  quite  forgetful  that  it  was 
sent  there  to  be  washed. 

After  breakfast,  Anne  and  I  went  up  stairs  to  un- 
pack our  dolls  ;  papa  had  lately  brought  them  to  us 
from  London,  and  we  were  very  fond  of  them ;  we 
kept  them  carefully  out  of  the  baby's  reach,  lest  the 
paint  should  get  sucked  off  their  faces,  and  we  tried 
to  remember  not  to  touch  their  pink  and  blue  kid 
arms,  unless  our  hands  were  clean.  "We  called  them 
Angelina  Augusta  and  Augusta  Angelina.  In  those 
days  names  were  beautiful  in  proportion  to  the  num- 
ber of  syllables ;  now  it  is  different,  and  all  the  dolls 
of  my  acquaintance  are  called  Sallie  and  Bessie  and 
Jennie,  —  names  which  we  should  have  thought  very 
commonplace. 

Angelina  Augusta  and  Augusta  Angelina  stared 
very  hard  with  their  great  unwinking  black  eyes,  as 

133 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


we  carried  them,  from  room  to  room,  pointing  out 
to  them  all  the  charms  of  our  new  abode,  and  holding 
them  up  to  the  window,  that  they  might  admire  the 
Mersey  crowded  with  shipping  and  the  heavy  red  brick 
warehouses  of  distant  Liverpool  visible  between  masts 
and  pennons. 

"  How  beautiful  our  dolls  do  look  in  their  best 
frocks  !  "  said  I  to  Anne,  "  how  glad  I  am  they  are 
made  of  wood,  so  that  they  will  never  die  !  I  'm  tired 
of  playthings  that  die  like  our  lame  robin  and  the 
kitten  with  weak  eyes.  Dearest  darling  Angelina 
Augusta  will  keep  her  red  cheeks  forever,"  I  added, 
kissing  her  passionately  but  carefully,  "  unless  — 
O  Anne,  do  you  recollect  poor  Eloisa  Matilda,  who 
lay  in  a  pail  of  water  all  night,  and  in  the  morning 
had  not  a  bit  of  face  left  ?  It  was  just  as  if  her  soul 
had  fled." 

"I  shall  teach  Augusta  Angelina  that  water  is 
very  unwholesome  for  dolls,"  said  Anne ;  ' '  we  must 
not  tell  them  when  we  go  to  bathe,"  she  whispered. 

A  slight  noise  at  the  door  made  us  look  in  that 
direction,  and  to  our  surprise  we  saw  a  little  girl 

131 


BIRKENHEAD. 


standing  on  the  threshold,  her  head  thrown  back,  one 
small  foot  advanced  as  if,  in  the  act  of  entering,  she 
had  been  transfixed  with  admiration  at  the  sight  of 
our  dolls ;  we  were  equally  struck  with  her  remarkable 
appearance,  so  that  we  all  three  remained  motionless, 
staring  at  one  another.  Poor  Eloisa  Matilda  herself, 
after  her  night  in  the  pail  of  water,  was  not  more  en- 
tirely destitute  of  color  than  was  this  child ;  her  lips 
and  cheeks  were  perfectly  white,  a  mass  of  thick  black 
hair  hung  about  her,  and  a  pair  of  very  large,  very 
dark,  very  extraordinary  eyes  gave  a  wonderful  mel- 
ancholy to  her  face,  they  were  so  full  of  a  strangeness, 
a  sadness,  a  horror,  almost,  of  expression.  She  was 
dressed  in  deep  mourning  even  to  her  stockings, 
which  gave  her  thin  limbs  the  appearance  of  bird's 
legs. 

"  I  have  got  a  doll  too,"  said  the  child,  with  a 
sweet  smile,  which  gave  a  natural  look  to  her  old, 
careworn  little  face,  and  restored  my  courage  at  once. 

"  Have  you  ?  what  is  its  name  ?  " 

"  Grandmother,"  said  the  child. 

"  Grandmother  !  how  funny ! "   said  I,  laughing. 

135 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


"Now  I  call  my  doll  Angelina  Augusta;  what  do  you 
think  of  that  ?  " 

" O,  I  think  it's  a  beautiful  name,"  replied  the  child, 
with  flattering  emphasis. 

"  Well,  there  are  a  great  many  more  just  as  beau- 
tiful ;  I  '11  pick  out  one  for  your  doll,  if  you  like. 
What  do  you  say  to  Georgiana  Cecilia,  Seraphina 
Delia,  Annette  Amelia  ?  " 

Anne  and  I,  with  a  view  to  naming  our  dolls,  had 
read  over  the  "  List  of  Proper  Names  "  at  the  end  of 
the  dictionary  so  often,  that  we  could  rattle  them  off 
our  tongues  faster  even  than  we  could  say  "Peter 
Piper  picked  a  peck  of  pickled  peppers."  The  little 
girl's  wits  seemed  quite  buried  for  a  moment  under 
such  an  avalanche  of  long  words ;  then,  recovering 
herself,  she  answered  timidly,  — 

"  My  doll  is  too  small  to  have  so  large  a  name, 
and,  besides,  I  loved  my  grandmother  very  much,  and 
when  she  died  and  was  buried  in  heaven,  —  she  went 
up  there  in  a  great  box,  —  I  called  my  doll  after 
her,  because  I  love  it  next  best.  My  doll  has  a 
frock  made  out  of  one  of  grandmother's,  and  she 

136 


BIRKENHEAD. 


wears  a  silk  handkerchief  of  grandmother's  for  a 
shawl." 

"  Bring  her  here,  and  let  me  look  at  her,"  said  I, 
decidedly.  The  doll  was  brought,  and  proved  to  be 
a  rag-baby  of  unusual  ugliness,  the  legs,  arms,  and 
top  of  the  head  sewed  up  with  the  coarsest  thread, 
and  a  face  in  the  earliest  style  of  rag-baby  art,  two 
small  dots  for  eyes,  two  large  ones  for  cheeks,  a 
perpendicular  line  for  the  nose,  and  a  horizontal  line 
for  the  mouth.  But  the  child  hugged  it  up  to  her 
thin  neck  with  so  much  love  and  reverence  that  it 
grew  quite  respectable  in  our  estimation,  and  we  lost 
all  desire  to  laugh  at  it. 

"See,"  said  the  child,  "how  beautifully  mother 
has  painted  it !  The  hair  is  done  with  ink,  —  mother 
dipped  the  back  of  the  head  into  an  ink-bottle,  —  the 
lips  and  cheeks  are  of  cherry-juice,  —  mother  said  she 
wished  she  could  paint  mine  such  a  color,  —  and  the 
eyes  are  done  with  indigo  out  of  the  bluing-bag." 

These  were  secrets  worth  knowing.  We  instantly 
resolved  to  begin  painting  in  the  same  style  and  on 
a  large  scale. 

137 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


«  Who  is  your  mother  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  She  keeps  this  house/''  said  the  child. 

"  And  what  is  your  name  ?  "  said  I.  We  had  quite 
forgotten  that  she  might  have  one  as  well  as  her  doll. 

"  Alice  Phinney,  and  I  am  four  years  old,  —  people 
always  ask  next,  '  How  old  are  you  ? ' ' 

"  Alice  Phinney,"  said  I,  my  mind  suddenly  recur- 
ring to  the  events  of  the  morning,  "  you  may  tell  your 
mother  that  I  am  not  a  furniture-smasher,  whatever 
Mary  may  say,  and  you  can  ask  your  maid  to  bring 
back  the  things  she  took  from  the  mantelpiece,  for  I 
haven't  the  least  idea  of  breaking  them.  Just  go 
down  and  tell  them  that,  please/' 

Alice  opened  her  eyes,  but  went  down  stairs,  nev- 
ertheless, stopping  on  each  stair  to  talk  to  her  doll. 
In  a  few  moments  Mary  bustled  in  with  a  great  roll 
of  towels  under  her  arm,  and  a  clean  blue-checked 
apron  on.  "  Come,  come,  children/'  said  she ;  "  the 
tide  is  up,  it 's  time  to  go  down  to  the  bathing-house. 
Get  your  hats,  quick/' 

"  The  tide  is  up/'  I  repeated  to  myself,  as  I  laid 
Angelina  Augusta  on  the  bed,  and  spread  a  pinafore 

138 


BIRKENHEAD. 


over  her  slumbers.  "  The  tide  is  up."  I  thought  of 
the  five  great  oceans  as  displayed  on  the  map,  run- 
ning furiously  into  half  the  bays,  and  climbing  half 
the  headlands  and  cliffs  of  the  whole  earth ;  and  all 
this  grand  preparation  was  necessary  that  two  little 
girls  might  go  and  bathe  ! 

I  walked  along  very  silently  under  the  influence  of 
this  magnificent  idea ;  we  went  out  to  the  end  of  a 
long  pier,  and  entered  a  gloomy  barn-like  building. 
At  first,  on  coming  in  from  the  strong  sunshine,  we 
seemed  to  be  in  total  darkness,  but  how  different 
from  the  dry  brooding  darkness  of  the  land  !  This 
darkness  was  heavy  with  damp,  and  the  breath  of  the 
sea  crept  through  it ;  one's  blood  curdled  and  one's 
imagination  thrilled  at  the  same  time.  Most  of  the 
light  came  in  with  the  water  under  the  bathing- 
house,  and  soon  our  eyes  were  strong  enough  to  dis- 
cern the  short  waves  leaping  up  and  down  against 
the  piles  and  posts,  licking  them  with  their  shining 
tongues,  and  in  the  intervals  of  the  quick  leaps,  little 
streams  of  water  ran  down  from  the  vivid  green  sea- 
weed and  bunches  of  barnacles  which  crowned  these 

139 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


posts,  making  a  pleasant  murmur  in  the  place,  and 
a  sound  of  silver  rippling.  We  could  not  form  any 
idea  of  the  depth  below  us ;  the  shining  amber  sur- 
face of  the  heaving  tide  soon  melted  into  brown,  and 
the  brown  into  infinite  blackness.  The  stairs,  which 
led  down  under  the  water,  grew  indistinct  immedi- 
ately, and  in  a  moment  vanished  from  sight ;  the  last 
visible  stair  might  have  been  a  white  rock,  a  fragment 
of  ice,  a  mastodon  bone,  a  drowned  child  even.  It 
looked  like  anything  one  chose  to  fancy.  I  remember 
standing  in  shivering  heroism  on  these  stairs,  held 
firmly  by  Mary,  and  waiting  for  the  next  swell  of  the 
tide  to  overwhelm  me.  I  saw  it  coming  afar  off,  ris- 
ing against  the  narrow  strip  of  sky  which  gleamed 
between  the  building  and  the  water ;  its  sphered  crest 
was  lifted  to  the  very  foundation  of  the  bathing- 
house  ;  it  grew  suddenly  dark ;  I  shut  my  eyes,  and 
the  wave  went  over  me.  I  felt  two  cold  arms  of 
spray,  a  great  wet  kiss  which  covered  my  whole  face, 
and  an  indescribable  jargon  of  rushing  waters  in  my 
ears,  like  a  thousand  adventures  told  in  a  breath. 
It  was  worth  to  me  a  whole  library  of  romances. 

140 


BIRKENHEAD. 


"  Ma'am,"  said  Mary  to  mamma,  when  we  got  home, 
"  Miss  Peasy  has  been  as  good  as  gold.  She  did  n't  say 
one  word,  good,  bad,  or  indifferent,  from  the  time  she 
left  the  house  till  she  got  back.  And  she  took  to  the 
water  like  a  —  a  —  young  shark  or  porpoise,  ma'am. 
I  never  see  Miss  Malviny  herself  do  better/' 

We  occupied  the  whole  first  and  second  floor  of 
Mrs.  Phinney's  small  house,  for  mamma  liked  plenty 
of  room  when  she  took  lodgings,  but  Anne  and  I 
could  not  be  satisfied  without  a  thorough  exploration 
of  the  third  story,  left  silent  and  deserted  while  the 
family  who  slept  there  were  below.  This  we  accom- 
plished in  a  series  of  scamperings  up  stairs  and  a 
good  deal  of  walking  on  tiptoe  after  we  got  there, 
for  we  were  half  afraid  mamma  might  not  approve 
our  curiosity.  Under  cover  of  doing  errands  for 
mamma,  we  soon  got  acquainted  with  the  ground- 
floor,  knew  the  number  of  pantries,  the  size  of  the 
kitchen,  what  the  cook  looked  like,  and  how  many 
eggs  she  put  into  our  bread-puddings.  Mrs.  Phin- 
ney's  own  room  we  never  dared  to  enter,  but,  as  the 
door  was  always  half  open,  we  could  not  help  peep- 
Hi 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


ing  in  sometimes,  if  it  was  impolite.  It  seemed  to 
us  that  Mrs.  Phinney  spent  most  of  her  time  in  put- 
ting up  her  hair,  which  was  long  and  coarse,  and 
continually  fell  down  like  a  mane  over  her  gaunt 
shoulders,  positively  refusing  to  be  kept  in  place  by 
the  broken  horn  comb  with  only  three  teeth  left, 
which  the  poor  woman  patiently  stuck  and  restuck 
into  the  twisted  mass  of  tresses.  There  was  nothing 
attractive  about  this  room  but  its  cleanliness ;  the 
grate  and  the  brass  fender  shone  with  the  highest 
polish,  the  faded  chair-covers  were  scrupulously 
washed  and  starched,  the  dimity  bed-curtains  so 
neatly  mended  that  the  patches  became  quite  orna- 
mental. Six  varnished  shells  adorned  the  mantel- 
piece from  which  Mrs.  Phinney  daily  wiped  the  dust 
with  a  small  paint-brush.  A  large  feather  fan  hung 
on  one  side  of  the  fireplace,  a  gilt  hearth-brush  orna- 
mented the  other.  Over  it  a  simpering  pink-and- 
white  portrait  of  the  departed  Mr.  Phinney  was  sus- 
pended in  a  cheap  frame,  into  which  a  few  sprigs  of 
green  were  stuck.  Under  this  portrait  a  small  clock 
ticked  very  loudly,  as  if  it  were  afraid  of  the  gentle - 
112 


BIRKENHEAD. 


man  above,  and  dared  not  stop  while  he  was  watch- 
ing it  so  closely.  This  room  contained  what  little 
Alice  thought  the  most  beautiful  thing  in  the  world, 
a  silhouette  of  her  grandmother  in  a  high-backed 
chair,  with  a  Roman  nose  and  a  tall  mob-cap,  and  the 
sloping  shoulders  peculiar  to  silhouettes. 

When  I  said  there  was  nothing  attractive  about 
the  room  but  its  cleanliness,  I  forgot  little  Alice,  who 
spent  most  of  her  day  there,  sitting  in  the  middle  of 
the  floor,  with  her  doll  and  her  kitten.  This  kitten 
was  called  Snowball,  and  was  always  described  by 
her  as  a  "  white  kitten  with  a  blue  ribbon  round  its 
neck."  It  did  not  quite  do  justice  to  this  descrip- 
tion, since  it  passed  its  nights  in  the  coal-hole, 
ribbon  and  all,  but  we  made  every  allowance.  More- 
over, its  hair  was  even  more  wiry  than  Mrs.  Phin- 
ney's,  and  being  very  thin  its  pink  skin  showed 
through  plainly,  in  a  very  chilly  and  uncomfortable 
fashion.  Still,  next  to  the  silhouette  of  her  grand- 
mother, this  kitten  was  little  Alice's  most  precious 
possession ;  she  soothed  its  piteous  mewings  in  the 
same  tender  voice  with  which  she  hushed  her  dolly's 

143 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


imaginary  waitings.  With  the  doll  on  her  knee  and 
kitty  curled  up  in  the  tiny  straw  cradle  at  her  feet, 
Alice  sat  on  the  floor  perfectly  happy,  busily  engaged 
in  cutting  out  garments  for  both  to  the  best  of  her 
ability  with  a  large  pair  of  dull  scissors  whose  points 
were  as  round  as  a  knife-blade.  Often  she  had  to 
stop  and  rub  the  red  rings  on  her  poor  little  thumb 
and  finger,  which  these  cruel  scissors  made,  and  often 
she  interrupted  herself  to  burst  out  in  snatches  of 
shrill  singing,  or  to  jog  the  cradle,  or  to  wrap  dolly 
up  closer  in  her  small  pocket-handkerchief.  Little 
Alice  had  a  genius  for  loving  and  nursing. 

When  Mrs.  Phinney  was  not  putting  up  her  hair, 
she  was  generally  bending  over  some  article  of  her 
well-saved  wardrobe,  darning  and  repairing  it.  She 
would  sit  mechanically  at  work  hour  after  hour, 
her  rigid  face  and  compressed  lips  motionless  and 
expressionless,  except  of  a  sort  of  dull  sorrow.  I 
used  to  sit  on  the  bottom  stair,  that  I  might  look  in 
upon  her  and  Alice  unobserved.  Once  or  twice,  to 
my  great  astonishment,  I  saw  this  marble  figure  of  a 
woman  suddenly  drop  her  work  and  fall  on  her  knees 


BIRKENHEAD. 


by  the  child,  kissing  her  vehemently  without  a  word, 
and  wetting  her  hair  with  a  shower  of  tears.  Alice 
would  look  up  with  some  wonder  and  more  sympathy, 
speak  to  her  mother  in  little  soothing  tones  as  if  she 
were  comforting  another  doll,  and  wipe  her  eyes  with 
whatever  odd-shaped  frock  or  pinafore  she  might  be 
working  upon.  In  a  few  moments  the  mother  would 
return  to  her  seat,  resume  her  work  listlessly,  and  her 
eyes  would  look  as  dry  and  stony  as  if  they  did  not 
know  how  to  weep. 

We  never  saw  much  of  Alice.  Sometimes  she  en- 
tered our  room  unobserved,  and  when  we  looked  up 
from  our  play,  we  found  her  standing  by,  hugging 
the  everlasting  doll,  and  watching  us  with  quiet  satis- 
faction. We  always  were  glad  to  see  her  and  made 
her  immediately  useful.  She  was  willing  to  "  make 
believe  "  anything,  and  to  be  either  our  visitor  or  our 
maid  or  our  child,  elder  sister  of  Angelina  Augusta 
or  Augusta  Angelina ;  she  would  keep  a  baker's, 
a  butcher's,  or  a  greengrocer's  shop,  whichever  we 
chose,  and  allowed  us  to  beat  her  down  in  her  prices 
to  our  heart's  content.  But  in  the  midst  of  our  bar- 

145 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


gaining,  Mrs.  Phinney's  anxious  voice  would  be  heard 
calling  "  Alice,  Alice  !  "  and  the  child  was  gone  in  a 
moment.  "I  suppose  Mrs.  Phinney  will  not  let 
Alice  play  with  us  because  she  thinks  we  are  furni- 
ture-smashers," I  said  to  Anne. 

Though  Alice  seemed  the  most  amiable,  the  most 
gentle  of  children,  we  were  sometimes  startled,  gen- 
erally late  in  the  afternoon,  by  her  loud  and  violent 
shrieking,  as  if  she  were  in  a  perfect  paroxysm  of 
passion.  We  heard  a  running  and  hurrying  of  peo- 
ple down  stairs  on  such  occasions,  Mrs.  Phinney's 
door  was  hastily  shut,  and  the  screams  soon  ended  as 
suddenly  as  they  began.  We  did  not  understand  it 
at  all,  and  thought  Alice  must  be  a  very  bad  child  in 
spite  of  appearances. 

On  the  next  morning,  after  one  of  these  fits  of 
screaming,  Alice  glided  into  the  room  even  more 
gently  than  ever.  I  thought  I  had  never  seen  her 
look  so  deadly  pale.  "  Do  you  feel  ill  ? "  said  I  to 
her.  "  O,  no,"  said  she, ' '  only  a  very  little  tired ;  my 
doll  has  been  rather  troublesome,  and  I  can't  make 
kitty  stay  in  the  cradle  this  morning.  I  suppose  it  is 

146 


BIRKENHEAD. 


lifting  her  into  it  so  many  times  which  makes  me 
ache  so  all  over.  Then  the  breakfast  was  not  good, 
the  milk  was  sour,  and  the  bread  was  very  dry,  I  could 
not  swallow  them.  Mother  says  her  milkwoman  is 
as  good  as  any,  but  I  wish  she  'd  get  another ;  very 
often  in  the  morning  something  ails  the  milk  so  that 
I  can't  eat  my  breakfast  ." 

Now  it  happened  that  I  had  been  reading  some 
very  interesting  stories  by  Mrs.  Sherwood,  where  total 
depravity  was  insisted  upon,  and  a  great  deal  said 
about  the  ingenuity  of  men  and  children  in  attribut- 
ing wrong  motives  to  their  actions,  deceiving  them- 
selves as  well  as  others.  Here,  I  thought,  was  a 
decided  case  of  depravity  and  self-deception  under  my 
very  eyes,  and  I  felt  myself  called  upon  to  make  a 
missionary  effort  in  Alice's  behalf. 

"  Alice,"  said  I,  with  considerable  sternness,  "  you 
were  a  very  naughty  girl  last  night,  and  you  screamed 
yourself  sick.  That  is  what  makes  you  so  tired  to- 
day, and  that  is  the  reason  you  could  n't  eat  your 
breakfast.  It  is  not  the  fault  of  the  milkwoman  nor 
of  the  kitten,  but  of  your  bad  heart/'  I  added  sol- 

147 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


emnly,  "and  you  ought  to  pray  to  God  to  forgive 
you  and  help  you  not  to  do  so  any  more." 

Little  Alice  looked  very  much  astonished. 

"  I  wasn't  naughty  last  night/'  she  said  gently,  "I 
am  never  naughty." 

This  seemed  to  me  a  very  serious  case. 

"  0  Alice,"  I  said,  "  how  little  you  know  yourself ! 
your  heart  is  desperately  wicked,  and  you  are  naughty 
all  the  time,  even  when  you  're  asleep." 

I  was  almost  afraid  this  was  going  beyond  Mrs. 
Sherwood,  but  Alice  was  in  such  a  hardened  condi- 
tion that  I  thought  it  best  to  state  the  case  strongly. 

"If  you  were  me,"  said  Alice,  after  a  moment's 
silence,  "  would  you  put  a  ruffle  on  dolly's  new  night- 
cap?" 

I  determined  to  try  an  appeal  to  her  feelings,  since 
I  could  not  succeed  in  convincing  her  mind. 

"  O  Alice,"  I  cried,  "  how  can  you  be  naughty 
when  you  think  of  your  poor  mamma  !  She  has 
nobody  in  the  world  left  to  love  her  but  you.  I  've 
seen  her  cry  over  you,  and  I  've  seen  her  looking  as 
sad  as  if  her  heart  was  breaking.  Perhaps  it  is  be- 

148 


BIRKENHEAD. 


cause  you  are  so  bad.  If  you  would  try  to  be  good, 
I  dare  say  she  would  laugh  and  —  smile"  I  concluded, 
rather  awkwardly;  but  this  time  some  effect  was 
produced.  Two  very  large  tears  gathered  slowly  in 
Alice's  very  large  eyes,  and  she  looked  at  me  with  a 
wistful  and  bewildered  expression. 

"  Mamma  cries  because  she  says  she 's  afraid  she 
shall  lose  me/'  she  answered  in  a  troubled  voice.  "  I 
don't  think  she  can  lose  me.  I  always  hold  her  hand 
so  tight  when  we  walk  in  the  streets  over  at  Liverpool, 
and  here  there 's  no  danger,  for  I  know  the  way  every- 
where as  far  as  the  brick  church." 

I  felt  my  missionary  zeal  ebbing  away  very  fast 
as  I  looked  at  the  poor  little  pale  face. 

"  I  rather  think,"  continued  Alice,  somewhat  reas- 
sured, "  that  mother  thinks  grandma  will  find  me  if  I 
do  get  lost.  Last  night,  when  I  was  falling  asleep, 
she  said  she  believed  I  should  soon  follow  grandma. 
I  heard  her  say  so  to  the  cook.  And  so  I  shall  fol- 
low her,  just  as  soon  as  I  get  a  glimpse  of  her,  and  I 
mean  to  look  about  everywhere  for  her  next  time  I 
go  to  Liverpool.  Is  Liverpool  the  way  to  heaven  ?" 

149 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


This  was  so  fair  an  opportunity  that  I  could  not 
help  saying,  "  The  way  to  heaven  is  to  be  good,  Alice, 
and  I  'm  sure  your  mamma  would  be  happier  if  you 
were  good." 

"  Well,  then,  I'll  be  good,"  said  Alice. 

"That's  right,"  cried  I,  delighted  with  my  suc- 
cess, "  and,  Alice,  I  '11  show  you  the  beautiful  prayer 
and  hymn  that  Henry  Fairchild  learned  after  he 
had  been  very  naughty.  You  had  better  read 
it." 

"  I  can't  read,"  said  Alice,  "  except  d-o-g  dog,  and 
h-a-t  hat,  in  the  primer." 

"Well,"  said  I,  "I  '11  read  them  to  you." 

I  began  to  read,  and  Alice  very  soon  began  to  yawn ; 
presently  a  new  idea  struck  her,  she  turned  towards 
me  quickly,  and  burst  into  a  fit  of  laughter.  I  had 
never  heard  her  laugh  so  before. 

"  Why,"  said  she,  "  what  a  stupid  thing  I  am  ! 
you  're  only  making  believe.  I  forgot  that  you  always 
make  me  play  at  being  something  when  I  come  up 
here.  0  yes,  I  know  now,  I  'm  to  play  I  was  naughty 
last  night.  Well,  mother,"  she  said  in  a  funny  voice, 

150 


BIRKENHEAD. 


pretending  to  cry,  "  I  'm  very  sorry,  please  not  whip 
me  very  hard  !  " 

She  held  out  her  little  hand  for  me  to  strike  it,  as 
I  often  did  by  way  of  imaginary  punishment,  and 
affected  to  be  very  much  frightened. 

" Please  not  punish  dolly,"  she  said.  "Play  she 
was  the  best  of  all.  Let  my  dolly  wear  the  medal 
to-day,  if  we  keep  school." 

I  hung  the  button  which  served  for  a  medal  round 
the  rag-baby's  neck.  I  was  quite  puzzled. 

Next  time  that  we  heard  Alice  screaming  I  got 
up  from  my  cricket,  threw  Angelina  Augusta  into 
Anne's  lap,  and  went  in  search  of  Mary.  I  met 
her  on  the  stairs ;  she  looked  agitated  and  alarmed. 
"What  is  the  matter  with  Alice?"  I  asked,  anx- 
iously. 

' '  Matter,  miss  ?  "  said  Mary  ;  "  children  does  be 
always  screaming;  maybe  she's  naughty." 

"No,  Mary,"  said  I,  "Alice  is  not  naughty." 

"  Then  what  can  she  have  to  scream  for  ?  "  retorted 
Mary,  twitching  her  gown  from  my  grasp  and  leaving 
me.  I  ran  to  mamma's  room. 

151 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


"  Mamma/'  cried  I,  "  what  ails  Alice  ?  why  does 
she  shriek  so  ?  " 

Mamma  hesitated,  and  replied,  "  She  cries  because 
she  does  not  feel  well." 

The  cries  suddenly  ceased.  "  Does  she  feel  better 
now?"  I  asked. 

"  I  hope  so,"  said  mamma,  still  hesitating. 

I  went  behind  the  window-curtain  to  ponder  on  the 
mystery.  The  setting  sun  poured  a  river  of  light 
against  the  current  of  the  Mersey  ;  each  wave  had  its 
spark  of  fire  like  an  opal.  Little  boats  with  glowing 
sails  flew  rapidly  along,  large  ships  felt  their  way 
more  cautiously  through  the  glorified  atmosphere. 
Hundreds  of  fluttering  streamers  pointed  down  the 
river ;  they  seemed  to  say  to  the  lagging  vessels, 
"  There  is  your  way,  there  lies  the  path  to  the 
great  ocean,  beautiful  lands  with  golden  gardens 
and  sapphire  skies  are  hidden  behind  those  western 
clouds ;  follow  us,  from  their  dizzy  mast-heads  we 
shall  first  discern  the  splendors  beyond."  I  pitied 
the  ships  shut  up  in  the  docks,  whose  pennons 
streamed  eagerly  upon  the  breeze,  but  in  vain.  Then 

152 


BIEKENHEAD. 


I  thought  those  pent-up  masts  behind  those  enormous 
walls  were  like  the  great  trees  in  Beelzebub's  garden ; 
the  little  scarlet  and  crimson  flags  looked  at  that 
distance  like  gorgeous  diabolical  fruit.  Then  I 
thought  of  poor  Matthew  who  got  such  a  terrible 
pain  by  eating  Beelzebub's  apples,  and  I  wondered  if 
Alice's  pain  was  as  bad.  It  must  be,  if  one  could 
judge  by  her  screams.  Mary  now  entered  the  room. 
She  did  not  see  me,  and  exclaimed  to  mamma,  "  O 
ma'am,  the  poor  child  is  in  a  terrible  fit.  The  doctor 
says  she  can't  live  through  many  more."  I  suppose 
mamma  made  a  sign  to  her  that  I  was  in  the  room, 
for  she  immediately  began  talking  of  something  else. 
I  had  a  vague  idea  that  a  fit  was  a  dreadful  thing. 
Giant  Despair  had  fits ;  there  was  a  picture  of  him 
while  "  his  fits  were  upon  him  "  in  Mrs.  Mason's  old 
"  Pilgrim's  Progress,"  —  a  hideous  picture,  in  which 
he  sprawled  all  over  the  page,  kicking  and  clutch- 
ing, with  every  feature  purposely  out  of  drawing, 
to  represent  extreme  agony.  A  fit  was  a  thing  too 
shocking  to  be  spoken  of,  and  I  went  to  bed  full  of 
consternation  and  excitement. 

153 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


We  did  not  see  Alice  for  several  days,  and  though 
the  weather  was  very  warm,  Mrs.  Phinney's  door  was 
constantly  shut.  One  evening,  after  a  very  hot  day, 
mamma  gave  me  leave  to  go  into  the  garden.  I  went 
alone,  for  Anne  was  too  languid  to  play.  The  garden 
descended  rapidly  in  terraces  towards  the  river,  so  that 
from  the  lowest  terrace  the  house  was  not  visible,  only 
water  and  sky,  the  distant  city  opposite,  and  a  lonely 
shore  stretching  away  to  the  right  and  left.  With  a 
good  deal  of  difficulty  I  turned  a  large  empty  flower- 
pot upside  down,  and  seated  myself  upon  it,  under 
a  gnarled  apple-tree.  I  shall  never  forget  that  night : 
the  sky  was  hung  with  murky  clouds,  thunder  mut- 
tered in  the  distance ;  the  river  laughed  and  danced 
no  more,  but  rolled  sternly  and  resolutely  on  to  the 
sea.  Liverpool  was  wrapped  in  mist,  through  which 
glowed  a  few  fiery  eyes,  peering  out  at  the  lightning 
perhaps,  which  now  and  then  warmed  up  the  cold 
gray  of  earth  and  sky.  The  wind  rose  slowly ;  it 
sighed  very  gently  at  first,  nestled  itself  against  the 
quivering  leaves,  and  rested  there ;  soon  the  sighs 
grew  longer  and  louder,  and  the  wind  rushed  farther 

154 


BIEKENHEAD. 


and  farther  out  into  the  gathering  darkness ;  the 
sighs  became  sobs,  and  the  sobs  became  cries,  as  if 
the  gale  was  resolved  to  outdo  the  thunder,  which 
growled  more  and  more  fiercely.  As  the  storm  ad- 
vanced with  more  and  more  swiftness,  it  suddenly 
grew  very  dark ;  I  could  not  see  three  feet  before  me, 
and  though  I  hardly  dared  move,  I  longed  to  be  in 
the  house.  Just  as  I  was  about  to  start  up  and 
make  a  desperate  rush  towards  the  first  flight  of  steps 
in  my  cowardly  haste,  a  broad  flash  of  lightning 
showed  me  Alice,  standing  within  reach  of  my  hand. 
I  gave  a  violent  start  and  scream ;  she  did  not  appear 
to  hear  or  see  me ;  her  eyes  were  rolled  far  back  in 
her  head,  which  was  turned  towards  the  sky ;  her  face 
was  as  leaden  as  the  clouds.  So  intense  was  her  at- 
titude, that  I  felt  she  saw  something  that  I  could 
not  see.  I  trembled  with  inexpressible  curiosity  and 
dread.  In  a  second  it  was  all  blackness  again,  but 
Alice's  face  looked  up  before  the  eyes  of  my  imagi- 
nation as  plainly  as  I  had  just  beheld  it  in  bodily 
vision.  "  Alice,"  said  I,  "  tell  me,  do  you  see  your 
grandmother  in  heaven  ?  " 

155 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


A  frightful  shriek  was  the  only  answer,  another 
and  another,  and  now  the  lightning  glared  continu- 
ally, and  I  saw  the  long  figure  of  Mrs.  Phinney  flying 
down  the  steps,  her  hair  streaming  as  usual,  but  this 
time  it  seemed  awful  to  me,  and  not  ridiculous.  She 
flung  herself  upon  Alice,  or  could  it  be  Alice,  that 
little  white  quivering  form  ?  The  lightning  seemed 
to  play  in  the  mother's  hair  as  she  toiled  up  flight 
after  flight,  from  terrace  to  terrace,  with  her  woful 
burden,  nor  could  I  tell,  in  the  hurly-burly  of  the 
storm,  which  was  thunder,  which  was  wind,  which  was 
Alice  screaming  or  her  mother  groaning.  I  suppose 
I  got  into  the  house  and  was  put  to  bed  as  usual,  but 
I  remember  nothing  about  it. 

"You  are  very  quiet  this  morning,  miss,"  said 
Mary  to  me  at  breakfast  next  day.  "  Do  you  know 
what  is  going  on  in  the  house  ?  " 

I  remembered  to  have  seen  that  look  and  heard 
that  tone  before,  when  Mary  had  come  to  tell  me  my 
little  brother  was  dead.  I  did  not  make  any  answer, 
but  I  knew  that  Alice  was  dying  or  dead.  By  and 
by  there  was  a  long  whispered  consultation  between 

156 


BIRKENHEAD. 


mamma,,  Mary>  and  Mrs.  Phinney's  cook,  who  came 
up  stairs  with  red  eyes.  "When  it  ended,  mamma  said 
to  me  very  gently,  — 

"Little  Alice  is  very  sick,  she  will  soon  be  in 
heaven ;  her  pain  has  left  her,  and  she  will  have  no 
more  of  her  terrible  spasms.  She  is  very  quiet  now, 
and  she  wants  very  much  to  see  you.  I  think  you 
had  better  go  down  and  bid  her  good  by,  for  she  has 
been  a  kind  little  playmate  to  you.  But  be  very  still, 
and  don't  agitate  her  by  crying." 

Mary  took  me  by  the  hand,  led  me  down  stairs  into 
Mrs.  Phinney's  room,  and  left  me  at  Alice's  pillow. 
Instinctively  I  first  looked  at  the  mother ;  what  was 
the  sorrow  of  the  child's  death  compared  to  the  fu- 
ture sorrow  of  that  mother's  life  ?  Mrs.  Phinney's 
eyes  were  as  stony,  her  features  as  rigid,  as  ever. 
But  her  hands  were  in  constant  nervous  agitation, 
now  smoothing  the  bedclothes,  now  arranging  the 
pillows,  now  wiping  the  child's  brow  with  her  hand- 
kerchief. I  fixed  my  eyes  at  last  on  Alice.  Her 
hair,  tangled,  matted,  soaked  with  the  sweat  of  the 
mortal  agony  she  had  endured,  was  spread  all  over 

157 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


the  pillow,  and  against  this  dark  background,  so  ex- 
pressive of  suffering,  lay  the  whitest,  stillest,  sweetest 
face  in  the  world. 

"  Here  is  Miss  Peasy  come  to  see  you/'  said  the 
mother,  speaking  in  a  measured  voice,  as  if  afraid  to 
trust  herself. 

Alice  opened  her  eyes.  How  they  shone !  light 
flowed  from  them.  She  stirred  her  little  closed  hand. 
I  took  it ;  it  felt  in  my  grasp  as  slight  as  a  withered 
flower.  A  playful  expression  flitted  over  her  face,  as 
she  whispered  to  me,  — 

"I've  been  sick,  I've  got  well  now.  Mother  gave 
me  some  arrowroot,  but  I  couldn't  drink  it;  cook 
spoiled  it.  I  gave  it  to  Snowball ;  she  ate  it  out  of  a 
saucer.  Only  think,  cook  says  Snowball  caught  a 
mouse  in  the  cellar  last  night !  Was  n't  she  a  clever 
kitten?" 

She  gave  a  sigh  of  exhaustion.  Her  mother  offered 
some  more  arrowroot  and  lifted  her  up  gently.  The 
child  tried  to  drink,  but  was  almost  strangled  in  the 
attempt  to  swallow ;  a  faint  color  flushed  her  cheeks. 
After  a  few  moments  she  sighed  out,  "  What  bad  ar- 

158 


BIRKENHEAD. 


rowroot !  that  was  your  fault,  cook,  but  I  dare  say 
you  could  n't  help  it." 

The  poor  cook,  who  had  lived  with  Mrs.  Phinney 
for  many  years,  cried  bitterly,  and  covered  her  head 
with  her  coarse  apron. 

"Mother,"  whispered  Alice,  with  more  strength 
than  seemed  possible,  "  did  n't  you  say  I  was  going 
to  heaven  to-day  ?  I  can't,  I  don't  feel  well  enough, 
and  I  'm  not  dressed.  And  I  can't  go  without  dolly. 
Give  me  dolly." 

Her  mother  laid  the  doll  close  to  the  child's  face. 
Alice  murmured  to  it  in  her  usual  way,  "  Pretty 
dolly,  dear  dolly,  do  you  love  me  ?  "  Then  the  voice 
died  away. 

"  Something  ails  me,"  she  said  quickly,  with  a  look 
of  terror.  "  Give  me  kitty,  quick !  " 

Snowball  was  rubbing  about  my  feet.  I  picked  her 
up,  and  Mrs.  Phinney  put  her  on  the  bed. 

"  Good  mother ! "  said  Alice,  making  up  her 
mouth  to  be  kissed.  Her  mother  bent  over  her,  and 
their  lips  met ;  the  mother's  heart  went  out  from  her 
in  that  kiss,  and  Alice  took  it  with  her  to  heaven. 

159 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


She  lingered  yet  a  moment,  the  kitten  was  licking  her 
hand.  The  child  glanced  first  at  Snowball  and  then 
at  me;  the  same  playful  expression  struggled  with 
death  in  her  face,  but  for  an  instant  only.  She  laid 
her  cheek  against  her  dolly,  as  I  had  seen  her  do  it 
many  times  before,  the  eyelids  dropped,  and  the  splen- 
did light  of  those  eyes  went  out  forever. 

"  Well,  dear,"  said  mamma  to  me  after  I  was  taken 
up  stairs,  "  did  you  bid  Alice  farewell  ?  Did  she  tell 
you  she  hoped  you  would  meet  her  in  heaven  ?  did 
she  know  she  was  going  to  God  ?  " 

"  If  you  '11  believe  me,  ma'am,"  burst  out  Mary, 
"the  poor  child  knew  no  more  about  God  than  a 
little  heathen.  Ma'am,  she  actually  died  hugging  up 
that  dirty  rag-doll,  just  as  she  used  to  do  when  she 
was  at  play." 

Mamma  made  no  answer.  ' '  0  Mary  ! "  was  all  I 
could  say,  but  I  had  learned  a  lesson  of  death,  though 
I  was  unable  to  repeat  it.  Those  are  sometimes  near- 
est to  God  who  are  most  unconscious  of  it,  was  what 
I  felt,  but  could  not  express. 

160 


VI. 


THE  ISLE   OF  MAN. 

so  there  they  lay/'  continued  papa,  "  stiff 
and  cold,  but  with  smiles  on  their  little  thin 
faces,  and  hundreds  of  robins  fluttered  over  them, 
showering  down  leaves  upon  them,  and  not  only 
leaves  but  rose-petals  and  lily -petals,  and  thousands 
of  small  flowers,  violets  and  periwinkles  and  wood- 
anemones,  so  that  very  soon  these  poor  babes  in  the 
wood  grew  into  a  charming  green  bank  covered  with 
bees  and  butterflies  all  day  long,  and  their  poor  dead 
limbs  were  sheltered  from  the  rain  and  sun." 

Here  papa  paused.  Deep  sobs  were  heard  from  two 
little  girls  who  sat  on  his  knees.  One  of  these  little 
girls  saw  him  through  her  tears  winking  at  mamma, 
and  pointing  out  to  her  the  effect  he  had  produced, 
but  it  did  not  make  any  difference ;  the  babes  in  the 

161 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


wood  were  dead  just  the  same  whether  papa  chose  to 
laugh  or  not. 

"  And  now,  Peasy,"  said  papa,  "  if  you  will  get  me 
your  '  Paul  and  Virginia/  I  will  read  you  the  chapter 
which  describes  the  wreck  of  the  Saint  Geran  and  the 
drowning  of  Virginia." 

"  0  no,  papa/'  I  cried,  "  you  know  I  can't  bear  to 
hear  that  chapter;  you  know  I  can't  help  running  out 
of  the  room  when  you  come  to  that  part  where  it  says, 
f  Virginia  placed  one  hand  on  her  heart  and  raised  her 
eyes  to  heaven '  —  just  as  she  sees  the  great  wave 
coming.  No,  papa,  I  sha'  n't  get  the  book;  I  've  hid- 
den it  on  purpose,  and  I  hope  you  '11  never  find  it." 

" Never  mind  about  the  book,"  said  papa.  "I 
know  the  story  pretty  well;  indeed,  I  believe  I  can  tell 
it  better  than  I  can  read  it."  He  began.  "  '  Paul 
plunged  into  the  waves  with  his  arms  stretched  out 
towards  Virginia ;  Domingo  and  I  held  the  ends  of 
the  rope  which  we  had  tied  round  his  waist.' " 

"  Did  you,  papa  ?  "  said  Anne,  looking  up  very  re- 
spectfully, but  I  stopped  my  ears  with  my  hands  and 
sang  out  loudly,  — 


THE    ISLE    OF    MAN. 


"  There  was  a  man  in  our  town, 
And  robbers  came  to  rob  him, 
He  crept  up  to  the  chimney  top, 
And  then  they  thought  they  had  him. 
But  he  got  down  on  t'  other  side, 
And  then  they  could  n't  find  him. 
He  ran  fourteen  miles  in  fifteen  days, 
And  never  looked  behind  him." 

Papa's  voice  was  drowned,  and  Virginia  was  saved 
alive  that  night.  A  violent  game  of  romps  ensued 
amid  great  laughing  and  shouting,  in  the  midst  of 
which  mamma  was  heard  mildly  remonstrating,  "  My 
dear,  you  will  really  disturb  the  neighbors.  0  my 
dear,  take  care  of  that  lamp.  My  dear,  you  '11  waken 
the  baby." 

At  length  Anne's  pinafore  being  torn  from  her 
shoulders,  and  my  shoe-strings  broken  short  off,  there 
was  a  cessation  of  hostilities. 

"Peasy,"  said  papa,  drawing  me  towards  him, 
"  let 's  see  how  much  of  a  scholar  you  are.  Where  is 
Dublin  situated,  and  what  is  it  famous  for  ?  " 

My  wits  and  breath  were  quite  gone  after  such  a 
stormy  play,  but  papa  should  have  an  answer. 

163 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


"Dublin/'  said  I,  boldly,  "is  the  capital  of  Ireland ; 
it  is  situated  on  the  Shannon,  and  is  famous  for  its 
Limerick  gloves  and  the  Giant's  Causeway." 

"  Peasy,"  said  mamma,  gravely,  "  remember  that 
to-morrow  you  are  to  be  put  back  in  your  geography 
as  far  as  '  Chapter  VII.,  Ireland/  y 

"  0  mamma/'  said  I,  "  that 's  too  bad,  when  I  Ve 
got  away  along,  as  far  as  the  Cannibal  Islands." 

"No,  no/'  said  papa,  "I  know  a  better  way  to 
teach  geography  than  that.  The  best  method  of 
finding  out  where  Dublin  is  situated  is  to  go  and  see 
for  one's  self.  To-morrow,  mother,  you  may  pack  up 
the  children's  clothes,  and  next  day  we'll  take  the 
steam-packet  Royal  George,  which  sails  for  Dublin 
at  ten  A.  M.  precisely.  I  warrant  we  '11  find  the 
Shannon,  if  it  is  to  be  found  there,  and  I  dare  say 
Peasy  has  got  money  enough  to  buy  herself  a  pair  of 
the  Limerick  gloves.  Perhaps  she  can  get  them  cheap 
at  the  manufactory." 

As  mamma  did  not  say  as  usual,  "  My  dear,  what 
nonsense  you  are  talking  ! "  I  went  to  bed,  thinking 
that  papa  was  very  likely  to  be  in  earnest,  especially 

164 


THE    ISLE    OF    MAN. 


as  his  way  of  learning  geography  struck  me  as  ex- 
tremely sensible  and  natural.  Mamma  and  Mary  did 
spend  the  whole  of  the  next  day  in  packing,  and, 
moreover,  I  was  not  put  back  to  "  Chapter  VII.,  Ire- 
land." I  went  through  a  hurried  lesson  about  the 
Cannibal  Islands  over  the  top  of  a  great  trunk  which 
mamma  was  filling,  and  upon  which  she  nailed  a  card 
of  direction  with  DUBLIN  printed  at  the  bottom  in 
very  black  ink.  This  was  conclusive.  Anne  and  I 
spent  the  rest  of  the  day  in  consulting  Robinson 
Crusoe,  whose  experience  in  sea  voyages  afforded  us 
some  valuable  hints,  and  in  lingering  on  the  stairs 
that  we  might  waylay  Mrs.  Phinney  and  the  cook, 
and  tell  them  that  we  were  going  to  Dublin.  We 
wrapped  up  our  dolls  in  their  warmest  clothes,  and 
privately  tied  to  their  waists  broad  corks  from  a 
couple  of  empty  pickle-jars ;  we  hoped,  in  case  of 
shipwreck,  they  might  be  able  to  float  ashore  on  these, 
with  perhaps  some  traces  of  paint  remaining  on  their 
faces.  On  the  day  of  departure  we  went  in  our  cloth 
coats  and  beaver  bonnets  to  bid  Mrs.  Phinney  good 
by.  She  looked  very  sad  when  she  kissed  us ;  we 

165 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


knew  she  was  thinking  of  Alice,  and  we  were  truly 
sorry  for  her,  but  then  we  were  going  to  Dublin,  we 
could  not  help  being  happy.  Snowball  purred  an 
affectionate  farewell ;  "  the  way  Mrs.  Phinney  pam- 
pered up  that  cat/'  Mary  said,  "  was  really  extraor- 
dinary for  a  sensible  middle-aged  woman  !  " 

Cook  bestowed  upon  us  each  a  paper  of  buns  and 
oranges,  we  were  fairly  loaded  down  with  baggage,  as 
all  travellers  ought  to  be,  and  what  with  dolls,  buns, 
and  baskets,  we  went  aboard  the  Eoyal  George  as 
heavily  accoutred  for  our  size  as  Eobinson  Crusoe 
with  his  two  muskets,  four  pair  of  pistols,  powder- 
horn,  hammer,  and  shot-bag. 

Mamma,  Mary,  and  baby  disappeared  at  once  down 
the  cabin  stairs.  The  weather  was  unpleasant,  the 
wind  being  fresh  and  the  sky  cloudy ;  but,  as  papa 
said,  "  it  did  not  much  signify ;  we  should  run  across 
in  a  few  hours,  and  be  in  Dublin  before  the  storm. 
The  Koyal  George  was  an  excellent  sea-boat,  and  made 
her  passages  very  punctually."  "We  stayed  on  deck 
with  papa,  and  in  obedience  to  mamma's  injunctions 
we  held  fast  by  his  hands,  and  looked  about  us,  we  and 


THE     ISLE    OF    MAN. 


the  dolls,  to  our  heart's  content.  We  admired  every- 
thing, even  to  the  muddy  river,  with  the  color  and 
foam  of  porter;  the  sand-bars;  the  buoys,  which 
would  bob  up  and  down  as  if  they  were  alive,  mak- 
ing us  hope  perpetually  that  we  were  coming  to  a 
whale  or  a  seal,  in  spite  of  repeated  disappointments ; 
the  vessels  at  anchor,  with  topsails  clewed  up  like  so 
many  great  cradles  for  the  idle  sailors,  who  lay  about 
the  decks  and  slept  to  the  swinging  and  rocking  of 
the  tide ;  the  ships  beating  about  under  sail,  where 
the  crew  were  wide  awake  and  bustling,  where  we  saw 
little  figures  of  men  running  and  climbing,  and  heard 
the  cheery  "  yo-heave-oh's  "  crossing  each  other  from 
ship  to  ship  on  the  breeze. 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  excitement  of  course  it 
was  impossible  that  we  should  content  ourselves  with 
travelling  as  two  insignificant  little  girls  in  beaver 
bonnets ;  we  determined  to  choose  distinguished  char- 
acters for  ourselves,  and,  after  due  deliberation,  we 
resolved  to  be  Lady  Stamford  and  Lady  Belgrave, 
going  with  our  children  on  a  voyage  to  the  Isle  of 
France, — an  island  we  especially  affected  for  Virginia's 

167 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


sake.  These  were  two  titled  ladies  whom  we  had 
often  admired  in  M ,  riding  in  their  coroneted  car- 
riages and  attended  by  servants  in  livery.  So  we  sat 
down  together  on  a  couple  of  high  stools,  spread  out 
our  dresses  in  a  dignified  manner,  called  one  another 
by  our  titles  as  often  as  possible,  and  conversed  in  the 
most  elegant  language  we  could  muster.  Several 
gentlemen  came  up  to  talk  to  papa,  and  for  want  of 
something  better  to  do,  began  to  notice  us  with  that 
condescending  familiarity  which  grown-up  men  six 
feet  high  assume  towards  children  whose  heads  hardly 
reach  to  their  elbows. 

"  Come  here,  little  one,"  said  a  stout  good-natured- 
looking  man,  holding  out  his  hand  to  me;  " bring 
your  rattle-traps  over  this  way,  and  sit  on  my  knee." 

Here  was  a  pretty  address  to  be  made  to  Lady 
Stamford  !  My  dignity  rebelled  against  it,  but  nev- 
ertheless I  felt  obliged  to  obey,  and  walked  slowly 
across  the  deck  towards  the  gentleman's  knee.  The 
Royal  George  was  pitching  considerably,  and  as  I  was 
encumbered  with  my  doll  and  my  basket,  I  fell  down; 
the  basket  flew  open,  and  out  rolled  all  the  conveu- 

168 


THE    ISLE    OF    MAN. 


iences  I  had  provided  for  Angelina  Augusta's  coin- 
fort  in  travelling,  —  the  pewter  cup  and  spoon,  two 
tiny  clean  pocket-handkerchiefs  in  case  of  sickness,  a 
vial  supposed  to  contain  salts,  a  small  wooden  lemon, 
and  a  nightgown. 

"  Good  gracious,  child,"  cried  the  gentleman,  pick- 
ing up  the  doll,  "  how  do  you  manage  to  lug  about 
all  this  trumpery  ?  " 

He  lifted  me  in  a  very  indignant  state  upon  his 
knee.  That  he  should  call  Angelina  Augusta  trum- 
pery, and  sit  there  holding  her  so  contemptuously  by 
the  neck ! 

"  What 's  your  name  ?  "  said  he,  abruptly. 

No  answer.  I  dared  not  reply  "  Lady  Stamford/' 
and  really  just  at  that  time  I  was  Lady  Stamford  and 
nobody  else. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?  "  he  asked,  after  waiting 
in  vain  for  me  to  speak. 

No  reply  again.  If  I  answered  at  all,  I  must  say 
"  To  the  Isle  of  France."  In  imagination  I  was  al- 
ready there ;  in  imagination  I  saw  the  waters  of  Vir- 
ginia's fountain  sleeping  in  the  moonlight,  and  the  two 

169 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


palm-trees  whispering  together  over  her  "Repose." 
I  saw  the  bamboo  huts  of  Madame  de  la  Tour  and 
Marguerite,  and  the  little  white  church  of  the  Shad- 
dock grove  ;  I  saw  the  town  of  Port  Louis  lying  be- 
tween the  dark,  tangled  tropical  forest  and  the  broad 
blue  Indian  Sea;  I  saw  the  Island  of  Bourbon  in  the 
distance  like  a  solitary  cloud  in  the  unstained  sky  of 
the  south. 

' '  I  fancy  you  Ve  left  your  tongue  in  Liverpool/' 
said  the  gentleman,  taking  Angelina  by  the  feet  in- 
stead of  the  neck,  and  holding  her  head  downwards, 
so  that  her  pink  gauze  veil  trailed  over  his  muddy 
boots. 

"Not  all  of  it,"  I  burst  out.  "I've  got  enough 
left  to  ask  for  my  doll.  Please  give  her  to  me  ;  she 
is  not  used  to  being  held  so ;  I  'm  afraid  you  '11  make 
her  dizzy/' 

The  gentleman  laughed,  and  handed  me  the  insulted 
and  discomposed  Angelina  Augusta,  whom  I  pro- 
ceeded to  "  set  to  rights  "  gravely. 

"  How  old  are  you  ?  "  said  the  gentleman. 

"  Nearly  seven,"  said  I,  as  impressively  as  possible. 

170 


THE    ISLE    OP    MAN. 


The  gentleman  yawned,  and,  having  exhausted  his 
resources  in  the  way  of  entertaining  children,  he 
allowed  me  to  slide  from  his  knee. 

As  I  was  returning  to  Anne,  walking  as  much  like 
Lady  Stamford  as  the  motion  of  the  vessel  allowed, 
I  was  suddenly  lifted  into  the  lap  of  a  very  pleasant- 
looking  young  man  who  had  been  sitting  very  near 
us,  quite  near  enough  probably  to  overhear  our  child- 
ish talk  and  be  amused  by  it. 

"  That  is  a  charming  little  girl  you  have  with  you, 
ma'am,"  said  he,  taking  the  doll  in  a  very  respectful 
manner.  "I  hardly  ever  saw  such  black  eyes  in  a 
child  of  her  age.  She  resembles  you  extremely/''  he 
added  gravely,  studying  both  our  faces;  "you  are 
her  mother,  I  presume  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  I,  "she  is  my  only  child;  her 
name  is  Angelina  Augusta." 

"And  a  delightfully  sweet  name  you  have  given 
her,"  returned  he.  "If  you  will  allow  me,  I  will 
write  it  down  in  my  pocket-book  in  case  I  should 
ever  want  to  name  a  daughter  of  my  own." 

The  pocket-book  was  brought  out,  and  the  name 

171 


FEAST'S    CHILDHOOD. 


inscribed  in  a  bold  hand  with  many  ornamental  flour- 
ishes. 

"  And  now,  ma'am  —  "  continued  he. 

"Stop,"  interrupted  I,  "you  should  say  'your 
ladyship '  when  you  speak  to  me.  I  am  Lady  Stam- 
ford." 

"  Pardon  me/'  he  answered  seriously,  "  I  was  not 
aware  —  but  believe  that  I  am  most  happy  to  make 
your  ladyship's  acquaintance." 

We  shook  hands,  and  bowed  to  each  other  politely. 

"  That  is  my  sister,  Lady  Belgrave,"  I  continued, 
pointing  to  Anne,  who  had  fallen  asleep  in  a  little 
bunch,  with  her  head  against  the  guard.  Her  bon- 
net was  very  much  jammed,  the  front  of  her  coat 
covered  with  crumbs  of  bun,  and  her  mouth  stained 
with  orange  juice. 

"I  hope,"  said  he,  "your  ladyship  will  take  an 
early  opportunity  of  introducing  me  to  her  ladyship, 
your  ladyship's  sister." 

"  What  elegant  language  ! "  thought  I ;  "  now  this 
is  the  proper  way  for  me  to  be  spoken  to." 

"Might  I  inquire  of  your  ladyship,"   continued 

172 


THE    ISLE    OF    MAN. 


this  delightful  man,  "  what  point  of  the  compass  is, 
on  this  voyage,  honored  with  your  ladyship's  ap- 
proval ?  In  other  words,  I  would  ask  your  ladyship 
in  which  direction  your  ladyship  is  going  ?  " 

"  O,  to  the  Isle  of  France,"  I  replied.  "  Virginia 
and  I  went  to  the  same  convent  to  school  in  Paris, 
and  I  promised  her  we  would  come  and  stay  a  week 
or  two  with  her  some  time/' 

"  Your  ladyship  could  not  do  better,"  returned  he. 
"I  am  myself  a  cousin  of  the  governor  at  Port  Louis, 
M.  de  la  Bourdonnaie;  perhaps  your  ladyship  has 
heard  Virginia  speak  of  him  ?  " 

"  0,  very  often  !  "  I  cried.  "  He  was  the  person 
who  obliged  her  to  go  to  Paris,  and  I  hope,  sir,  you 
will  advise  the  governor  not  to  make  a  fuss  now  that 
she  has  concluded  to  go  back  and  marry  Paul." 

"I  think,"  said  he,  "your  ladyship  had  best 
speak  to  the  governor  yourself.  I  will  do  my  ut- 
most to  confirm  your  ladyship's  influence.  " 

There  was  a  pause.  How  charming,  this  style  of 
conversation  was  !  0,  if  Lady  Belgrave  would  only 
wake  up  and  listen  to  it,  —  but  she  was  snoring 

173 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


loudly,  and  papa  was  wiping  her  face  with  a  red 
bandanna  pocket-handkerchief. 

"  I  hope  we  shall  not  get  to  the  Isle  of  Prance  in 
the  hurricane  season/''  said  I. 

"  I  trust  not/'  answered  he,  "  for  the  sake  of 
your  ladyship,  your  ladyship's  sister,  your  ladyship's 
child.  But  your  ladyship  must  remember  that  the 
Saint  Geran  in  which  Virginia  was  wrecked  was 
nothing  but  a  French  ship,  nothing  like  as  strong, 
of  course,  as  the  English  heart  of  oak  which  has  the 
honor  of  conveying  your  ladyship.  And  by  the  by, 
begging  your  ladyship's  pardon,  I  do  not  exactly  un- 
derstand. Here  is  your  ladyship  going  to  see  Virginia, 
and  yet  Virginia  is  shipwrecked  and  drowned." 

"  0,  did  n't  you  know  ?  "  said  I.  "  She  was  not 
drowned  dead,  she  was  brought  to  life  again  after 
she  was  found  on  the  beach.  I  never  read  any 
farther  than  the  shipwreck,  because  the  rest  of  the 
book  is  not  true.  The  person  who  wrote  it  was 
mistaken." 

"This  information  that  your  ladyship  gives  me 
is  highly  satisfactory,"  returned  my  friend.  "  Per- 

174 


THE    ISLE    OP    MAN. 


mit  me  to  remark  that  your  ladyship's  face  is 
rather  smutty,  owing  to  your  ladyship's  proximity 
to  the  chimney.  My  poor  child/'  cried  he,  sud- 
denly changing  his  tone,  "you  are  very  pale,  you 
are  going  to  be  seasick.  Let  me  carry  you  down 
into  the  cabin  to  your  mamma." 

It  was  true  enough.  Sundry  dreadful  qualms 
had  been  seizing  me  occasionally,  and,  the  Royal 
George  giving  a  sudden  violent  lurch,  I  was  over- 
come at  last.  I  forgot  my  dignity,  I  forgot  my 
doll,  which  slipped  from  my  hands  to  the  deck  with 
a  loud  bump.  I  remember  being  carried  by  my  new 
friend  down  the  cabin  stairs,  followed  by  papa  with 
Lady  Belgrave,  who  cried  loudly,  and  whose  bonnet 
was  in  a  shapeless  heap,  knocked  over  her  eyes. 

The  boat  was  crowded.  Anne  and  I  were  laid 
in  one  berth  in  a  little  dark  state-room;  papa 
opened  the  door  wide,  and  placed  a  carpet-bag 
against  it,  that  we  might  get  a  breath  of  such  air 
as  the  close  cabin  afforded.  What  miserable  hours 
we  passed }  The  pitching  and  tossing  increased 
continually,  we  rolled  over  and  over,  bumping 

175 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


against  the  sides  of  the  berth,  crying  heartily  when 
the  spasms  of  seasickness  were  coming  on,  and  doz- 
ing heavily  when  they  were  over,  in  spite  of  our 
uncomfortable  position,  or  rather  want  of  position, 
for  we  could  not  keep  ourselves  in  one  place  a 
moment.  Mamma  and  Mary  had  only  three-legged 
stools  to  sit  on;  they  braced  themselves  against 
the  wall  as  well  as  they  could,  the  baby  fretting 
continually,  and  no  wonder,  for  mamma  was  obliged 
to  hold  the  poor  little  thing  in  the  most  awkward 
manner,  to  keep  it  from  being  thrown  out  of  her 
arms.  Papa  put  his  head  into  the  door  sometimes, 
bringing  with  him  from  the  deck  such  a  nice  smell 
of  fresh  sea-air,  and  looking  so  well  and  so  wide  awake 
and  so  rosy  that  we  wondered  at  him  with  all  the 
power  of  wonder  seasickness  left  in  us. 

f '  I  've  been  to  dinner,"  said  he  on  one  of  these 
visits.  "  Peasy,  don't  you  want  to  get  up  and  see 
the  dishes  on  the  table  dancing  a  country-dance? 
Down  the  outside  they  go,  down  the  middle  and 
back,  cross  over  and  right  and  left.  Campbell  got 
a  tureen  full  of  gravy  all  over  his  straw-colored 

176 


THE    ISLE    OF    MAN. 


cassimere  vest;  young  Tom  Campbell  of  Glasgow, 
he 's  aboard,  —  and  just  as  the  steward  was  putting 
the  potatoes  before  the  captain,  they  were  all  flung 
out  of  the  dish,  and  rattled  about  the  captain's  head 
like  big  hailstones.  Peasy,  don't  you  want  some 
dinner?  Capital  fried  soles,  juicy  sirloin,  goose- 
berry tart,  and  cheesecakes.  You  know  you  like 
cheesecakes.  Have  a  cheesecake?" 

"  O  papa  !  "  said  I  faintly,  while  an  inexpressible 
disgust  stole  over  me.  It  made  us  ill  even  to  see 
mamma  and  Mary  trying  to  swallow  a  little  tea  at 
favorable  moments. 

"Mary/'  said  I  solemnly,  after  papa  had  gone, 
"come  here  a  minute,  don't  tell  mamma  just  yet, 
but  I  think  I  sha'  n't  live  a  great  while  longer." 

"Bless  me!  why  not,  miss?"  said  Mary,  anx- 
iously. 

"Because,"  sobbed  I,  with  a  burst  of  tears, — 
"because  I've  left  off  liking  cheesecakes,  and  that 
could  n't  happen  to  me  unless  I  was  going  to  die." 

"  0,  that 's  nothing,"  answered  Mary ;  "  you  '11 
come  to  your  stomach  in  time,  miss." 

177 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


"  Peasy,"  said  Anne's  melancholy  little  voice,  "  I 
hope  our  poor  dolls  are  n't  very  sick/' 

"0  dear,  I  hope  not/'  sighed  I.  "  Please  look 
at  them,  Mary,  and  tell  us  how  they  are  getting  on." 

"  They  're  doing  beautifully,"  said  Mary.  ' '  They 
're  taking  care  of  one  another  in  the  upper  berth. 
They  send  their  best  loves  down  to  you,  and  please 
you  must  not  worrit,  they  say,  for  they  have  not 
even  lost  their  color." 

"Mary,"  said  I,  "why  can't  you  tie  the  bottle 
of  salts  to  Angelina's  nose  and  put  her  nightgown 
on?" 

"Angelina  says  she  don't  want  it  on,"  replied 
Mary,  promptly,  "  and  she  declares  she  knows  where 
the  smelling-bottle  is ;  she  '11  get  it  herself  if  she 
wants  it." 

"  0,  very  well !  "  I  said,  feeling  as  much  relieved 
as  if  I  had  not  known  that  Mary  was  making  all 
these  messages  up. 

The  hours  wore  on.  We  dozed,  woke  up,  cried, 
were  sick,  and  dozed  again,  over  and  over.  The 
candles  in  the  cabin  blinked  and  winked,  and  seemed 

178 


THE    ISLE    OF    MAN. 


to  be  dozing  too ;  there  was  just  enough  light  to 
make  the  darkness  look  darker  and  mamma's  pale 
face  paler.  It  seemed  as  if  we  had  been  on  board 
the  boat  ever  since  we  could  remember,  and  that 
poor  mamma,  perched  bolt  upright  on  her  three- 
legged  stool,  was  as  much  a  fixture  as  an  idol  on 
its  pedestal.  Sighs,  groans,  and  lamentations  were 
heard  in  all  directions,  and  the  storm  thundered 
without  like  a  great  organ  out  of  tune. 

"Anne,"  said  I,  "don't  you  wish  you  were  in 
the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death?  It  would  n't  be 
half  as  dreadful  as  this.  And  there  sit  mamma 
and  Mary  in  two  corners,  like  Pope  and  Pagan." 

Anne  was  so  weak  that  she  began  to  laugh,  so 
did  I ;  then  we  cried  again,  then  we  laughed  and 
cried  together.  Papa  came  in,  buttoned  up  in  his 
great-coat,  with  a  handkerchief  tied  over  his  seal- 
skin cap  and  under  his  chin. 

"  Wife,"  said  he,  "  I  find  we  've  been  grossly 
deceived  in  this  boat.  It  turns  out  that  she's  a 
miserable  leaky  old  tub,  perfectly  unseaworthy. 
The  machinery  has  given  out  somewhere,  and  here 

179 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


we  are  tossing  about  and  making  very  little  head- 
way. The  Isle  of  Man  passengers  expected  to  land 
hours  ago,  and  it's  doubtful  if  we  touch  there  be- 
fore morning.  It  blows  great  guns,  Peasy,  and  if 
this  weather  lasts  till  we  get  to  Dublin,  I  don't  know 
but  we  shall  get  shipwrecked  against  the  Giant's 
Causeway." 

"My  dear/'  said  mamma,  seized  with  a  new 
idea,  "  why  can't  we  go  ashore  at  the  Isle  of  Man  ? 
You  see  how  sick  and  uncomfortable  we  are,  and 
I'm  sure  it  is  not  safe  to  remain  on  board  this 
vessel;  as  you  describe  her,  we  have  reason  to  be 
very  much  alarmed,  and  it  seems  to  me  quite  our 
duty  to  leave  her  as  soon  as  possible." 

"Well,  if  you  say  so,"  said  papa;  "but  you 
know  we  started  to  go  to  Dublin;  do  you  feel 
willing  to  give  up  Dublin  ?  " 

"  Why,"  said  mamma,  "  of  the  two  I  really  think 
the  Isle  of  Man  the  most  interesting  place  to  visit. 
I  have  had  a  great  curiosity  to  go  there  ever  since 
we  read  '  Peveril  of  the  Peak '  aloud  together.  I 
think  we  should  enjoy  ourselves  there  very  much, 

180 


THE    ISLE    OF    MAN. 


—  we   could  see  Peel  Castle,   Castle   Ruskin,  God- 
dard  Crooen's   Stone,  —  excellent  fresh  air  for  the 
children  too.     And  we  could  go  on  to  Dublin  when- 
ever we  chose." 

Papa  laughed.  "  The  truth  is,  mother,  you  're  a 
bit  of  a  coward,"  said  he.  "  But  we  '11  stop  at  the 
Isle  of  Man ;  you  shall  have  fair  notice  when  we  're 
nearing  the  place ;  keep  as  quiet  as  you  can  till  I 
tell  you  it 's  time  to  get  ready."  Papa  went  off,  and 
Mary  gave  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"  'T  is  just  as  you  say,  ma'am,"  cried  she ;  "  it 
ain't  our  duty,  noway  nor  nohow,  to  stop  aboard 
a  boat  that 's  full  of  cracks.  "We  are  flying  in  the 
face  of  Providence,  and  the  sooner  we  leave  off  the 
better." 

Soon  after  this  Anne  and  I  fell  into  so  sound 
a  sleep  that  it  was  with  great  difficulty,  when  the 
boat  at  last  reached  the  Isle  of  Man,  we  could  be 
awakened  by  the  joint  efforts  of  papa,  mamma, 
and  Mary,  who  shook  us,  lifted  us  up,  and  called 
to  us  to  "make  haste — must  dress  in  a  minute 

—  Isle  of  Man  —  go  ashore  at   once."    We  were 

181 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


dragged  out  of  the  berth,  faint,  dizzy,  and  stupe- 
fied. Daylight  had  struggled  into  the  cabin  and 
made  it  look  cold  and  gray ;  we  shivered  all  over. 
Ladies  and  gentlemen,  cloaked  and  shawled,  with 
baskets  and  boxes  in  their  hands,  stood  about  our 
state-room  door,  all  ready  to  land.  "  Hurry,  hurry ! " 
cried  papa,  trying  to  assist  us.  He  put  on  our 
pelisses  hind  side  before,  crowded  my  feet  into 
Anne's  shoes,  bent  her  bonnet  into  polyangles,  and 
then,  looking  at  it  very  complacently,  pronounced 
it  emphatically  "  straightened  for  the  first  time  in 
a  proper  manner,"  and  concluded  by  combing  my 
tangled  hair  in  such  haste  that  I  cried  with  the  pain. 

"There,  there,  never  mind,  don't  cry-!"  said  he. 
"  We  '11  go  upon  deck  and  take  a  peep  at  that  mer- 
maid sitting  on  a  rock ;  she 's  got  her  looking-glass 
hung  on  a  rusty  nail,  and  she 's  combing  her  hair  for 
breakfast.  She  don't  cry,  and  her  hair  is  in  a  great 
deal  more  of  a  snarl  than  yours." 

What  could  be  the  matter  with  me  ?  I  had  lost 
my  taste  for  mermaids  as  well  as  cheesecakes,  and 
did  not  feel  a  bit  of  curiosity  about  this  one.  The 

182 


THE     ISLE     OF    MAN. 


baby  had  on  so  many  shawls  that  nobody  but  papa 
could  carry  it.  Mary  took  Anne  in  her  arms,  and 
mamma  led  me  and  Angelina  Augusta.  For  the 
first  time  I  was  conscious  that  this  precious  crea- 
ture was  heavy;  I  could  hardly  walk  across  the 
cabin,,  and  dragged  one  foot  after  the  other  pain- 
fully up  the  companion-way.  But  no  sooner  had 
I  stepped  upon  deck  than  I  felt  as  light  as  the 

"  old  woman  of  Baling, 
Who  jumped  up  as  high  as  the  ceiling," 

and  could  have  outleaped  Malvina  Hixon  herself. 
For  the  first  time  in  my  life  I  saw  the  sky  in  a 
great  sweep  of  three  quarters  of  a  circle,  the  fourth 
being  broken  by  the  rocky  island  under  whose  lee 
we  were  lying.  The  rain  had  ceased,  the  last  de- 
tachments of  storm-clouds  were  crowding  one  an- 
other over  the  horizon,  and  the  royal  sun,  just 
risen,  shot  after  them  innumerable  darts  of  golden 
rays.  The  wind  had  gone  down,  and  the  waves, 
so  long  driven  before  it,  and  now  suddenly  free 
from  its  control,  ran  eagerly  hither  and  thither, 

183 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


tumultuously  lifting  up  their  heads,  as  if  they  knew 
not  where  to  go.  The  sea  was  one  heaving  con- 
fusion of  dazzling  lights,  in  the  level  rays  of  early 
sunshine. 

Then  the  fresh  bracing  air  had  such  a  heroic 
quality ;  all  our  courage  and  strength  came  back 
to  us  as  soon  as  we  felt  it  blowing  in  our  faces, 
and  my  little  sister  and  I  struck  up  a  shrill  duet, 
"Ye  Mariners  of  England,"  at  the  top  of  our 
small  lungs,  till  mamma  begged  us  not  to  be  so 
noisy.  Then  I  began  looking  for  the  mermaid 
which  papa  had  just  seen,  but  alas  !  she  was  gone. 
Either  she  was  hiding  behind  a  rock,  or  else  she 
had  gone  below  after  combing  the  snarls  out  of 
her  hair.  I  gazed  into  the  water,  hoping  to  catch 
sight  at  least  of  the  last  whisk  of  her  tail,  when  — 
behold  a  sudden  revelation  !  I  was  looking  down 
upon  what  appeared  to  be  the  remains  of  a  drowned 
city,  big  roots  and  stones  heaped  together  in  chaotic 
confusion,  and  reflecting  colors  as  rich  and  variegated 
as  if  the  tiny  plants,  mosses,  and  lichens  which  love 
to  creep  over  old  ruins  still  clung  to  them.  A  delicate 

184 


THE    ISLE    OF    MAN. 


swaying  motion  seemed  to  pass  over  those  bright 
surfaces,  caused  by  the  glimmering  of  the  water, 
which  added  to  the  deception. 

I  quite  lost  myself  gazing  down  into  the  trans- 
parent sea,  as  I  mechanically  followed  my  mother 
out  upon  the  gang-plank,  where  the  crowd  of  pas- 
sengers delayed  us  a  moment.  Suddenly  I  started 
and  shuddered;  a  dead  face,  ghastly  pale,  seemed 
to  be  looking  up  into  mine;  it  was  only  a  white 
stone  dimly  visible  under  the  water.  I  recovered 
myself  in  a  moment,  but  it  was  too  late,  —  I  had 
slipped  over  the  gang-plank  in  my  consternation; 
and  if  my  mother  had  not  instinctively  tightened 
the  grasp  of  her  hand,  which,  fortunately  for  me, 
I  was  holding,  there  would  really  have  been  a 
little  dead  face  lying  among  the  dark  rocks  under 
the  shallow  sea.  I  came  sufficiently  near  to  be- 
ing drowned  or  crushed  to  frighten  my  mother 
horribly,  and  entitle  me  to  a  severe  scolding,  which 
I  richly  deserved,  though  I  was  shivering  so  vio- 
lently with  excitement  that  I  could  hardly  bring 
out  the  necessary  words  of  penitence  for  my  care- 

185 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


lessness.  The  only  landing  was  by  a  rude  stair- 
case cut  in  the  perpendicular  wall  of  rock.  I  thought 
it  the  finest  staircase  I  had  ever  seen,  with  its  rich 
shining  gray  and  green  and  purple  tints,  its  tiny 
glittering  pools  of  water  in  its  hollows,  and  its 
spangles  of  mica. 

"  Papa,"  said  I,  as  we  clambered  up  the  steps, 
"this  reminds  me  of  the  Loadstone  Island  where 
Sindbad  the  Sailor  was  shipwrecked.  Don't  you 
remember  how  he  scrambled  over  rough  stones  till 
he  got  to  the  top,  and  there  he  found  the  temple 
and  the  great  iron  horse  that  he  shot  at  with  an 
arrow  and  it  fell  into  the  sea  ?  " 

"  Should  n't  wonder  if  this  was  the  very  spot/'  said 
papa,  as  we  stepped  upon  the  long,  solitary  pier,  one 
end  of  which  rested  on  the  staircase,  "especially," 
continued  he,  looking  about  him,  "  as  there  is  not  an 
animal  of  any  description  in  sight.  It  was  very 
thoughtless  in  Sindbad  to  shoot  the  only  horse  in 
the  place.  I  wonder  how  he  supposed  I  was  to 
get  three  children  and  six  trunks  to  the  public 
house." 

186 


THE    ISLE    OF    MAN. 


However,  we  got  there  at  last,  and  Anne  and  I 
were  put  to  bed  on  four  chairs  in  a  room  as  small 
and  dark  as  the  cabin  we  had  just  left,  while  papa 
and  mamma  went  to  look  for  lodgings.  The  name 
of  the  town  where  we  had  landed  was  Douglas, 
and  it  was  dirty  enough  to  be  called  Black  Douglas. 

One  afternoon,  about  a  week  from  this  time,  Anne 
and  I  were  sitting  on  the  broad  stone  step  of  a 
manse  farmhouse.  The  country  around  was  bleak 
and  desolate ;  a  few  stunted  twisted  trees  were 
scattered  here  and  there,  much  like  corkscrews  stuck 
in  the  ground.  There  were  no  hedges,  no  orchards, 
no  waving  cornfields,  no  singing  birds.  There  was 
no  life  and  motion  in  the  landscape  save  the  rush- 
ing of  the  restless  sea,  no  sound  but  the  sullen 
boom,  boom,  of  the  waves,  breaking  forever  on  the 
savage  coast.  The  Isle  of  Man  was  only  a  morsel 
in  the  jaws  of  the  ocean ;  we  felt  that  only  through 
its  forbearance  we  escaped  being  swallowed  up. 
We  could  not  forget  for  a  moment  that  we  were 
still  at  sea,  only  on  a  broader  and  firmer  deck.  The 
atmosphere  was  full  of  a  luminous  mist,  golden  by 

187 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


day,  silver  by  night,  for  the  moon  was  near  her 
full.  Papa  and  mamma  had  gone  to  walk  to  the 
top  of  a  barren  hill  near  by,  "and/'  said  Mary, 
"if  it  was  not  for  this  fog,  we  should  see  them 
plainly  from  here  when  they  get  to  the  top,  look- 
ing about  as  slim  and  black  up  against  the  sky  as 
number  eight  needles." 

Mamma  was  determined  to  prove  that  curiosity 
to  see  the  place,  and  nothing  else,  had  induced  her 
to  stop  at  the  Isle  of  Man.  She  explored  in  every 
direction  till  she  was  brought  up  by  the  sea,  with 
"Peveril  of  the  Peak"  and  a  guide-book  in  her  hand. 
She  had  taken  me  to  an  old  ruined  castle,  nod- 
ding over  the  surf  and  sinking  by  degrees  into  its 
white  arms.  She  had  taken  me  also  to  Holm- 
Peel,  another  castle  formerly  of  immense  strength ; 
its  great  hall  was  still  used  as  a  prison,  the  walls 
and  ceiling  and  floor  being  of  solid  stone  several 
feet  thick ;  we  felt,  on  entering  it,  as  if  going  into 
a  cave.  I  had  a  terrible  idea  of  criminals,  and  I 
went  in  among  them  with  fear  and  trembling,  hold- 
ing fast  to  mamma's  gown. 

188 


THE    ISLE    OF    MAN. 


"  Good  for  nothing  wretches  !  "  said  papa. 

"  Poor  creatures  ! "  sighed  mamma. 

"  What  did  you  think  of  the  prisoners  ? "  said 
Anne  to  me  when  we  got  back ;  "  were  you  afraid 
to  go  in?" 

"Why,  Anne,  there  isn't  the  least  thing  to  be 
afraid  of,"  said  I.  "It  felt  so  strange  not  to  be 
frightened,  especially  as  they  hadn't  any  fetters  on. 
You  know  we  thought  they'd  be  sitting  in  a  row 
with  their  feet  and  hands  tied,  but  they  looked 
just  like  other  folks.  You  might  have  gone  just  as 
well  as  not.  One  man  wanted  to  shake  hands  with 
me,  only  he  had  warts.  They  were  not  punished 
a  bit  while  we  were  there,  only  one  of  them  was 
reading  a  sermon.  One  man  was  very  nice-looking ; 
he  said,  '  What  a  pretty  little  girl ! '  when  he  looked 
at  me;  he  was  really  as  handsome  as  papa.  One 
old  man  sat  staring  at  the  floor,  and  I  thought  he  'd 
dropped  a  pin.  The  ugliest  creature  in  the  room 
gave  me  some  sugar-plums." 

"  That  was  the  turnkey,"  said  mamma ;  "  prisoners 
never  have  candy  to  give  away." 

189 


"  0  yes,  so  he  must  have  been,  for  he  had  a 
pocket-handkerchief,  but  it  was  so  snuffy !  And 
such  a  pimple  on  his  nose  !  O  mamma,  I  do  so 
wish  I  might  go  again,  and  carry  a  sixpence  for  that 
goody  good  prisoner,  —  the  one,  mamma,  that  told 
you  he  was  a  sinful  wretch,  and  that  God  was 
very  good  to  punish  him.  Well,  he  whispered  to 
me  afterwards,  and  asked  me  '  if  I  had  ever  a  six- 
pence about  me/  And  I  told  him  I  had  n't  any 
pocket,  because  my  handkerchief  was  pinned  to  my 
belt,  but  if  I  had  happened  to  have  a  sixpence 
tied  up  in  a  corner  of  it,  I  would  have  given  it  to 

him." 

•*  *  *  *  •* 

"Mamma,"  said  I  one  day  coming  to  her  par- 
lor after  a  long  conference  with  the  landlady,  — 
"  mamma,  I  have  learned  something  that  will  be 
very  useful  for  you  to  know,  —  that  people  ought  to 
set  pans  of  milk  on  their  kitchen  hearths  every 
night  for  the  fairies ;  Mrs.  Cubbins,  our  landlady 
you  know,  always  does.  They  drink  it  all  up  be- 
fore morning.  She  says  she  has  often  come  down 

190 


THE     ISLE     OF     MAN. 


stairs  softly  in  the  night  and  heard  them  supping 
it  up,  but  they  have  such  wonderful  sharp  ears, 
she  can't  move  softly  enough  to  catch  them,  off  they 
scamper  when  they  hear  her  coming.  They  wear 
little  slippers  made  of  acorns,  and  they  go  patter- 
ing over  the  floor  —  Oh !  and  she  says  they  pay 
for  the  milk  by  keeping  the  kitchen  chimney  from 
smoking  and  the  soot  from  tumbling  down  and 
the  cream  from  souring.  Do  let  Betty  save  milk 

for  the  fairies  when  we  go  back  to  M Don't 

you  remember  how  the  soot  fell  once  right  into 
the  crown  of  her  clean  cap  as  she  was  stooping 
over  the  fire,  and  how  angry  she  was  ?  Was  not 
it  funny  what  she  said  ?  '  By  the  bare  bones  of 
me  old  grandmother.'  '• 

"  Peasy,"  said  mamma,  gently, "  don't  repeat  Betty's 
sayings.  And  surely  you  don't  believe  in  fairies?" 

"Why,"  said  I,  hesitating,  "perhaps  there  are 
not  many  left  in  England,  though  there  must  have 
been  plenty  formerly.  You  know  one  of  my  best 
stories  begins  (  Once  on  a  time  when  fairies  inhab- 
ited the  earth  ! '  And  I  am  sure  there  must  be  a 

191 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


great  many  in  the  Isle  of  Man,  they  could  n't  very 
well  get  away  after  they  once  came,  you  know. 
Mrs.  Cubbins  says  she  don't  think  they  know  how 
to  swim.  She  sees  them  sometimes  at  a  distance 
when  she  is  out  walking;  they  wear  green  turbans, 
and  wave  green  flags  by  the  side  of  the  road. 
Once  she  met  a  fairy  in  the  shape  of  a  black  pig, 
and  next  day  her  daughter  sent  her  some  sausages ; 
another  time  she  heard  a  great  moo-oo-ing  all 
round  her  as  she  was  walking  in  the  twilight,  and 
in  less  than  a  year  after,  her  son  in  Douglas  made 
her  a  present  of  a  cow.  They  always  appear  to 
her  '  as  an  omen  of  good/  she  says,  on  account  of 
the  milk  she  gives  them.  But  they  dragged  her 
brother-in-law's  wooden  leg  into  the  fire  one  night, 
and  it  was  found  turned  to  charcoal  next  morn- 
ing. And  she  knows  an  old  man  who  had  all  the 
hair  in  his  best  wig  pulled  out  by  fairies,  —  I  sup- 
pose to  make  their  nests  with;  but  Tom  Cubbins 
always  laughs  when  his  mother  speaks  of  it,  and 
says,  "  Eats,  ma'am,  rats." 

"  Yes,"   interrupted  little   Anne,  "  and  papa  read 

192 


THE    ISLE    OF    MAN. 


to  mamma  last  night,  '  Eats  and  mice  are  such  small 
dear*,'  but  /  don't  like  'em  !  " 

Here  mamma  laughed  very  much,  and  said,  "I 
must  not  forget  to  tell  papa  that." 

"  And  when  Tom  laughs,"  I  went  on,  "  his  mother 
is  afraid,  and  she  speaks  quite  low,  and  looks  about 
her,  and  says,  Don't  laugh  at  the  good  people,  Tom, 
or  some  harm  will  come  to  you." 

"  Peasy,"  said  mamma,  "  go  and  get  your  Eoman 
history ;  you  are  wasting  your  time  shockingly,  and 
you  really  must  attend  to  your  lessons.  To-day 
you  read  about  Horatius  Coccles." 

But  I  have  wandered  away  from  Mrs.  Cubbins's 
doorstep,  where  Anne  and  I  were  sitting  on  a  cer- 
tain summer  afternoon.  Prom  time  to  time  we 
looked  away  from  the  gray  sea,  streaked  with  spray, 
that  we  saw  dimly  rolling  under  the  mist,  into  the 
great  kitchen,  where  the  strong  clear  light  of  the  fire 
was  reflected  from  rows  of  pewter  platters,  and  from 
the  oaken  buffet  and  settles  and  the  well-scrubbed 
dresser.  The  floor  was  strewn  with  glittering  sea- 
sand:  the  baby's  frock  was  no  whiter;  it  touched 

193 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


the  floor  as  Mary  sat  in  a  rush-bottomed  rocking- 
chair,  hushing  it  to  sleep.  The  little  creature  an- 
swered with  a  drowsy  murmur,  and  the  spinning- 
wheel  hummed  under  Mrs.  Cubbins's  busy  hands. 
Mary,  baby,  and  spinning-wheel  droned  together, 
and  without  the  waters  moaned;  Mrs.  Cubbins's 
large  gray  eyes  had  a  dreamy,  hazy  look  that  must 
have  been  caught  from  the  sea. 

Tom  Cubbins  came  whistling  round  the  corner 
from  the  stable,  with  a  basket  in  his  hand,  which  he 
set  down  before  us. 

"  I  thought  you  'd  maybe  like  to  play  with  our 
cat  and  her  kittens,"  said  he,  ' '  so  I  've  brought  'em 
up  to  the  house.  Puss  keeps  her  kittens  in  the 
stable,  and  she  don't  allow  herself  time  to  come  up 
to  the  kitchen  for  food,  she 's  so  anxious  about  'em. 
Sometimes  I  steal  some  of  the  fairies'  milk  off  the 
hearth  for  her,  and  I  don't  believe  they  miss  it." 

What  did  it  mean  ?  There  they  lay,  —  old  puss 
and  one,  two,  three  kittens,  —  and  not  one  of  them 
—  could  it  be  possible  ?  yes,  it  was  certainly  so  — 
not  one  of  them  had  —  a  tail ! 


THE    ISLE    OF    MAN. 


" Tom"  said  I,  indignantly,  " this  is  a  great  deal 
worse  than  laughing  at  the  fairies,  —  I  had  no  idea 
you  were  so  wicked !  How  could  you  do  so  ?  " 

"  Do  what  ?  "  said  Tom,  looking  astonished. 

"  Don't  pretend  you  did  n't"  said  I,  "  don't  deny 
it.  How  could  you  cut  off  all  those  dear  little  tails? 
What  did  you  want  them  for  ?  " 

Tom  burst  out  laughing.  "  Our  Manx-cats  have 
no  tails,"  said  he.  "I  forgot  you  did  n't  know  it." 

Here  was  an  interesting  fact.  Anne  and  I  selected 
the  two  prettiest  kittens  to  nurse,  and  examined  them 
attentively. 

"Puss  looks  sorry,"  said  Anne,  "because  she  can't 
lend  the  kittens  a  tail  to  play  with." 

And  indeed  the  whole  family  had  a  resigned  look, 
as  though  they  were  trying  to  submit  to  the  loss  of 
their  natural  playthings. 

"  Four  cats,  instead  of  two,  must  have  walked  into 
the  ark,"  I  mused,  as  I  slowly  stroked  my  kitten, 
each  stroke  coming  to  an  abrupt  and  unnatural  ter- 
mination, —  "  two  with  their  tails  straight  up  in  the 
air,  and  two  of  this  kind,  that  did  n't  get  finished  off." 

195 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


"  How  did  it  happen  ?  "  I  added,  looking  up  to 
Tom,  who  was  gazing  eagerly  down  the  road. 

"  Halloo,  mother,"  he  cried  without  answering  me, 
"  here  is  Master  Fleetwood  coming,  I  do  believe.  I 
see  the  post-chaise.  Got  his  room  ready  ?  " 

"  But  about  the  cats'  tails  ?  "  I  urged,  catching 
him  round  the  leg,  as  he  was  rushing  away  to  meet 
the  chaise. 

«  Cats'  tails?"  he  repeated.  " 0,  I  don't  know,— 
never  asked,  never  heard."  Then,  taking  pity  on  my 
anxious  face,  he  added  hurriedly,  "  Ask  him  when  he 
comes,  ask  Master  Fleetwood,  —  he  has  lived  here  all 
his  life,  and  he  knows  everything  besides  ;  he  '11  tell 
you." 

And  off  he  went  at  full  speed. 

Anne  and  I  settled  ourselves  to  take  a  good  stare 
at  this  approaching  prodigy,  Master  Fleetwood,  who 
knew  everything ;  but  we  were  deprived  of  the  pleas- 
ure by  Mary,  who,  having  disposed  of  the  baby,  sud- 
denly appeared  on  the  threshold  of  the  door,  and 
ordered  us  into  the  house. 

"  And  you  ought  to  be  ashamed,"  said  she,  as  she 

196 


THE    ISLE    OF    MAN. 


propelled  us  vigorously  up-stairs  before  her,  "  to  sit 
there  blocking  up  the  doorway  when  a  stranger  is 
coming,  —  Master  Fleetwood  too,  such  a  nice  boy 
Mrs.  Cubbins  says  he  is,  and  his  grandfather  is 
Deemster  of  the  island,  besides." 

As  we  crossed  the  staircase  window,  on  our  way  to 
our  rooms,  we  had  a  glimpse  of  Master  Fleetwood 
taking  a  flying  leap  from  a  post-chaise  which  was  just 
drawing  up  at  the  front  gate,  and  of  Mrs.  Cub- 
bins,  with  fluttering  cap-strings,  running  to  meet 
him. 

Anne  and  I  agreed  that  we  would  get  acquainted 
with  him  as  soon  as  possible,  that  we  might  ask  the 
great  question  about  the  Manx-cats'  tails. 

"  Not  that  I  believe  he  knows  everything,  as  Tom 
says,"  I  observed  to  Anne ;  ' '  how  can  he,  when  his 
grandfather  is  only  a  teamster  ?  " 

" The  Teamster  of  the  island,  she  said"  answered 
Anne.  "  So  I  suppose  he  gets  all  the  work  and  all 
the  wages." 

Unluckily  we  did  not  find  it  very  easy  to  get  ac- 
quainted with  Master  Fleetwood,  —  a  long-armed, 

197 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


long-legged  youth,  in  our  eyes  a  man,  who  spent  all 
his  days  in  out-door  amusements,  and  was  never  in 
the  house,  save  at  meal-times,  which  he  attended  with 
a  punctuality  that  won  Mary's  heart ;  she  was  never 
weary  of  holding  him  up  as  an  example  to  us,  careless 
little  things  who  never  were  ready  for  dinner. 

"  Why  can't  you  come  in  when  you  smell  the  din- 
ner, as  Master  Fleetwood  does?'"  she  would  say, 
scrubbing  our  faces  and  hands  with  might  and  main, 
and  keeping  one  eye  on  the  clock,  which  was  on  the 
stroke  of  dinner-time.  "  I  declare  to  Moses,  I  can't 
get  off  this  pigsty  mud,  —  0,  what  children !  " 

When  Mary  was  very  much  put  out  with  us,  she 
always  "  declared "  it  to  somebody.  It  was  not  al- 
ways "  to  Moses  "  ;  she  often  ' '  declared  to  Jacob  " 
or  "  Jerusalem  "  or  "  Abraham/'  but  she  never  did 
it  unless  we  were  really  too  trying. 

"  But  we  did  n't  smell  the  dinner/'  I  answered, 
as  well  as  I  could,  with  my  mouth  full  of  suds ;  "  we 
only  smelt  the  pigsty." 

"I  should  think  so,  indeed,"  said  Mary,  indignantly. 
"  Well,  when  the  big  hog  has  eat  up  Miss  Anne, 

198 


THE     ISLE     OF     MAN. 


you  '11  wish  you  'd  been  good  children,  and  come  in 
regular  to  your  breakfasses  and  dinners,  instead  of 
making  me  hunt  the  very  shoes  off  my  feet  before 
I  'd  find  you ;  I  declare  to  Samson,  you  will ! " 

Little  Anne  ventured  to  steal  a  respectful  look  at 
Mary's  feet,  which  were,  however,  cased  in  strong 
leather  shoes,  having  what  she  called  "  a  sixpence 
worth  of  squeak  in  'em";  but  indeed  Mary  might 
well  be  vexed  with  us.  After  a  long  search  she  had 
found  us,  just  before  dinner,  at  the  back  of  the  pig- 
sty, I  holding  Anne  by  the  legs,  while  she  hung  over 
the  fence,  almost  within  reach  of  the  hog's  snout,  and 
fed  that  interesting  animal  with  clover. 

Master  Meetwood's  appetite  at  table  inspired  us 
with  great  respect;  we  used  to  forget  to  eat  ourselves, 
and  let  the  bread  and  milk  drip  out  of  our  spoons 
upon  our  bibs,  while  we  watched  him  devouring 
boiled  beef,  stewed  cow-heel,  bubble-and-squeak 
(cabbage  and  pork,  cooked  together),  and  other 
farmer's  delicacies,  which  he  seasoned  with  so  much 
mustard  and  horse-radish  as  made  us  study  his  face 
curiously.  But  though  he  sometimes  turned  very 

199 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


red,  and  tears  would  rush  suddenly  from  his  eyes,  he 
never  allowed  himself  to  cool  his  burning  mouth 
with  water. 

At  last,  on  a  certain  very  rainy  day,  Master  Fleet- 
wood  condescended  to  join  us  in  the  back  attic,  where 
we  had  been  sent  to  play,  among  our  empty  trunks 
and  boxes  that  had  been  put  there  after  the  unpack- 
ing. I  was  keeping  school  for  Anne,  teaching  her 
to  count  and  "  add  up "  by  means  of  certain  rows 
of  brass-headed  nails  which  adorned  my  father's 
travelling  trunk.  I  had  printed  for  her  benefit  Ee- 
wards  of  Merit  on  the  backs  of  old  letters ;  these 
were 


and  I  blended  amusement  with  instruction,  for  after 
every  effort  in  mathematics  I  jumped  little  Anne  off 
the  trunk  as  a  reward,  and  in  strict  accordance  with 
her  merits.  If  she  had  been  "  Perfect,"  she  was  en- 
titled to  six  jumps;  if  "Good,"  to  four;  if ," Pretty 
Good,"  to  two;  and  if  "Bad,"  which  very  seldom 

200 


THE     ISLE     OF     MAN. 


happened,  to  one  jump,  but  it  was  a  splendid  jump, 
by  way  of  soothing  her  wounded  feelings. 

Master  Fleetwood  thought  this  an  excellent  play, 
and  I  remember  we  soon  lost  our  awe  of  him.  We 
literally  jumped  into  his  acquaintance.  He  amused 
himself  by  giving  us,  in  turn,  the  most  superb  flying 
leaps  from  the  top  of  the  trunk  that  we  had  ever  en- 
joyed in  our  lives.  We  whizzed  through  the  air  like 
flashes  of  lightning,  and  he  gave  us  such  an  impetus 
that  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  walls  of  the  attic,  I 
thought  we  might  have  soared  away,  like  birds.  But 
Master  Fleetwood  tired  at  last  of  this  violent  exer- 
cise, and  flung  himself  down  to  rest  on  Mary's  blue 
wooden  box,  wiping  his  face  on  a  handkerchief  rather 
the  worse  for  wear. 

"  Dear  me  !  "  said  I,  in  some  concern,  "  your  face 
is  as  red  as  it  was  yesterday,  when  you  ate  so  much 
fresh  mustard." 

By  this  time  we  were  so  familiar  with  him  that  we 
allowed  him  to  take  us  one  on  each  knee,  as  he  sat 
recovering  his  breath  on  the  box,  and  I  felt  bold 
enough  to  propound  my  great  question. 

201 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


" Master  Fleetwood,"  said  I,  "would  you  be  so 
very  kind  as  to  tell  us  why  the  cats  on  the  Isle  of 
Man  have  no  tails  ?  " 

"Halloo  V  said  he,  " there 's  a  question  that  never 
was  asked  in  my  Natural  History.  How  on  earth 
should  /  know  ? "  Then  seeing  me  look  disap- 
pointed, I  suppose,  he  added,  after  a  moment's  pause, 
"  Probably  it  happened  in  the  old  way." 

"Yes/'  said  I,  joyfully,  "probably  it  did.  But 
what  was  the  old  way  ?  " 

"  Well,"  he  answered,  "  you  've  read  of  such  things 
in  your  story-books.  By  the  way,  you  've  found  out, 
since  you've  been  here,  how  much  the  fairies  and 
such  creatures  have  to  do  with  everything  that  hap- 
pens hereabouts  on  our  island  ?  " 

"0  yes,"  said  I,  eagerly,  and  I  was  going  to 
repeat  several  anecdotes  in  proof  of  it  that  I  had 
heard  from  Mrs.  Cubbins,  when  Master  Meetwood 
stopped  me  by  assuring  me  that  he  knew  them  all  by 
heart. 

"But,"  said  he,  "in  old  times  stranger  things 
happened  than  can  occur  now,  and  you  may  imagine 


THE     ISLE     OF     MAN. 


it  was  a  very  strange  thing  that  made  our  Manx -cats 
lose  their  tails,  particularly  when  I  tell  you  that  in 
the  real  old  times  of  all  they  had  monstrous  tails, 
not  a  bit  like  the  shrivelled-up  things  that  cats  have 
now  in  the  place  where  you  come  from ;  tails  no  big- 
ger round  than  your  curling-stick  —  O  yes,  I  've  seen 
Mary  brushing  your  hair  round  it  many  a  time,  and 
heard  you  cry  and  fret  about  it,  too.  No,"  contin- 
ued Master  Fleetwood,  warming  with  his  subject, 
"  the  Manx  cats  that  lived  once  upon  a  time  had 
great  bushy  tails  like  foxes  or  gray  squirrels,  —  O, 
they  were  beautiful,  and  all  the  cats  admired  them- 
selves very  much,  and  took  heaps  of  comfort  out  of 
their  feathery  tails,  till  one  of  their  royal  family  took 
it  into  her  silly  head  to  —  to  —  "  Master  Fleetwood 
seemed  to  be  trying  to  remember  the  particulars  — 
"yes,  that  was  it,  she  took  it  into  her  head  to  fall 
in  love  with  a  prince,  a  man-prince  with  two  legs, 
instead  of  a  cat-prince  with  four,  whom  her  papa 
wanted  her  to  marry.  No  cat  was  ever  prouder  of  a 
tail  than  she  was  of  hers.  It  was  snow-white,  like 
herself,  —  you  know  in  your  story-books  the  high- 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


toned  cats  are  always  fair-complected,  as  Mary  says, 
— and  it  curled  gracefully  at  the  tip.  When  she  was 
in  a  haughty  mood,  she  used  to  let  it  drag  after  her, 
on  the  ground,  like  a  train.  When  she  felt  coquet- 
tish, she  used  to  catch  it  up  from  the  ground,  and 
carry  it  under  her  forepaw,  so  that  she  could  cast 
down  her  eyes  and  play  with  the  feathery  tip;  and 
when  she  wanted  to  take  a  walk,  she  would  tie  it  up 
against  her  waist  with  her  blue  sash,  so  as  to  be  out 
of  the  way." 

Here  Master  Eleetwood  paused,  apparently  to  re- 
call what  came  next,  and  I  took  the  opportunity  of 
shutting  my  eyes,  and  making  a  picture  to  myself  of 
the  cat,  moving  lightly  along  the  dark  wood-paths, 
appearing  and  disappearing  among  the  bushes  like  a 
little  wreath  of  cloud  or  mist ;  perhaps  curling  her- 
self up  for  a  nap,  when  she  grew  tired,  like  a  big 
snow-ball  just  fallen  upon  the  green  grass. 

"  But  what  was  her  name  ?  "  asked  Anne. 

"  Her  name,"  answered  Tom,  considering,  ff  was 
Moi-meme,  the  princess  Moi-meme,  for,  you  see,  she 
was  one  of  the  most  selfish  little  beasts  that  ever 

204 


THE     ISLE    OF    MAN. 


lived.  She  never  could  count  further  than  num- 
ber one.  Till  she  met  the  prince,  and  fell  in  love, 
she  cared  for  nobody  in  the  world  but  her  own 
precious  self ;  she  admired  herself  so  much  that  she 
really  pitied  people  who  had  n't  a  chance  to  wait 
upon  her  and  be  her  servants ;  she  looked  at  herself 
all  day  in  the  glass,  and  dreamed  about  herself  all 
night.  Even  in  church,  when  the  clergyman  was 
preaching,  she  was  always  thinking  of  herself,  and  so 
she  never  remembered  the  text." 

"  How  was  her  name  spelled  ?  "  I  inquired.  "  I 
don't  remember  seeing  it  at  the  end  of  my  spelling- 
book;  that  is  where  we  look  when  we  want  new 
names  for  our  dolls,  or  when  we  play  '  ladies  ' ;  the 
man  that  wrote  the  spelling-book .  put  two  pages  of 
proper  names  there,  and  it  was  real  good  of  him  too, 
was  n't  it,  Anne  ?  Some  of  the  names  are  perfectly 
splendid." 

"  0,  never  mind  the  spelling  !  "  said  Master  Fleet- 
wood.  "You'll  never  find  it,  it's  not  an  English 
name ;  just  get  the  pronunciation,  that 's  all  you  want, 
— Meaw-meme  or  Miau-meme,  that's  about  it, — and 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


a  very  good  name  for  her  it  was ;  it  sounded  just  like 
her,  too,  for  when  she  was  crosser  than  usual,  and 
that  was  almost  always,  she  just  miaued  and  miaued, 
and  spit  and  yelled,  till  everybody  was  tired  of  her. 
At  the  time  she  first  saw  the  prince,  she  was  not  at 
home ;  her  papa,  the  old  king,  had  got  so  weary  of 
her  selfish  ways  that  he  sent  her  to  stop  with  a 
couple  of  old  parties,  very  wise  and  excellent  old 
souls  they  were,  too,  and  the  princess  Miau-meme 
used  to  call  them  uncle  and  aunt,  —  Uncle  Wizard 
and  Aunt  Witch,  those  were  their  names.  They  had 
a  great  deal  of  patience  with  her,  and  so  had  her 
papa,  because  she  had  no  mother ;  the  queen  died  be- 
fore the  poor  princess  had  got  her  eyes  open,  and  so 
she  never  had  been  well  trained,  you  see, — spanked, 
and  had  her  ears  boxed,  and  that  kind  of  thing. 
Mothers,"  continued  Master  Meetwood,  looking  seri- 
ously first  at  Anne  arid  then  at  me,  and  shaking  his 
forefinger  at  us  slowly,  — "  mothers  are  things  that 
we  can't  any  of  us  very  well  do  without,  they  are  our 
best  friends,  don't  you  know, — first  chop,  A  1,  tip- 
top sawyers,  and  that,  and  they  get  the  upper  hands  of 


THE     ISLE     OF     MAN. 


us  when  we  're  small,  and  they  keep  it  up,  whipping 
us,  and  putting  us  to  bed  without  our  supper,  and  so 
forth,  and  so  on,  till  we  get  used  to  being  good,  and 
it  comes  as  easy  as  winkin'.  I  don't  mind  saying/' 
Master  Meetwood  continued  magnanimously,  "  that  I 
was  a  troublesome  lot  when  I  was  a  small  chap  like 
you,  but  my  mother  never  spoiled  me  by  sparing  the 
rod,  and  now  you  see  what  a  jolly  good  fellow  I  've 
turned  out !  So  take  your  punishments  without 
making  any  wry  faces,  you  little  shavers,  and  you  '11 
come  out  all  right.  Well,  I  believe  it's  going  to 
clear  up  by  noon,  and  so  I  must  hurry  on  with  my 
story,  for  I  can't  stop  in  this  beastly  house  all  day, 
if  I  can  help  it.  So,  as  I  was  saying,  this  disagree- 
able princess  Miau-meme  was  leading  Aunt  Witch 
and  Uncle  Wizard  the  very  deuce  of  a  life  with  her 
tempers  and  selfishness  ;  and  one  rainy  day,  in  partic- 
ular, she  'd  been  worse  than  usual,  —  stopping  at 
home,  for  you  know  cats  hate  water,  and  cutting  up 
high  jinks.  Of  course  she  began  by  licking  up  all 
the  cream  in  the  pantry  that  poor  Aunt  Witch  had 
put  by  for  her  tea,  and  then  —  she  set  to  work  to 
207 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


catch  a  mouse.  That  was  all  very  right  for  a  cat,  you 
know,  and  it  was  one  of  the  things  she  was  taught 
to  do  properly  at  school.  Aunt  Witch  saw  her 
crouching  down  behind  the  ash-bin  in  the  shed, 
watching  at  a  mouse-hole,  and  the  good  old  lady 
patted  her  on  the  head  with  her  trembling  hand,  and 
praised  her  for  being  useful.  '  Now  is  n't  it  better/ 
said  she,  '  to  sit  quietly  down  to  some  pretty  lady- 
like work  like  that,  than  to  be  climbing  trees,  and 
clattering  over  the  roof  of  the  house,  till  my  poor 
head  aches  fit  to  split  — •  like  a  torn-boy  '  —  cat,  I 
mean/'  said  Master  Fleetwood,  correcting  himself. 
"  Well,  the  princess  caught  a  mouse  at  last,  and 
what  do  you  think  she  did  with  it?  Why,  she 
stuffed  it  into  Uncle  Wizard's  pipe,  so  it  would  n't 
draw,  and  she  sat  under  the  table  and  chuckled  to 
herself  when  she  saw  the  poor  purblind  old  man 
lay  his  pipe  down  with  a  sigh,  after  trying  in  vain  to 
smoke  it.  €  Well/  says  he  to  himself,  ( I  must  get 
my  missus  to  clean  out  my  pipe,  and  I  may  as  well 
put  it  away  now,  and  go  to  work  and  copy  off  that 
receipt  for  charming  away  warts/  for  he  was  a  Wizard, 


THE     ISLE    OF    MAN. 


you  see.  So  he  got  up  with  a  groan,  for  he  was  a 
rheumaticky  old  gent ;  and  he  got  out  his  pen  and 
ink,  and  spread  a  sheet  of  paper  before  him.  '  I  '11 
rule  it,  let  me  rule  your  paper  for  you,  Uncle  Wiz- 
ard/ calls  out  Miau-meme,  skipping  out  from  under 
the  table.  (  That 's  a  nice  obliging  girl/  says  Uncle 
Wizard,  looking  at  her  with  some  surprise,  for  she 
was  n't  used  to  wait  on  him  at  all,  being  a  princess ; 
the  boot  was  on  t'  other  leg,  you  know.  So  she 
took  the  ruler,  and  ruled  lines  all  down  the  sheet  of 
paper  with  her  little  sharp  claw,  and  they  were  as 
nice  and  even  as  a  copy-book.  But  lo  and  behold, 
she  had  cut  'em  clean  through  the  paper,  and  when 
Uncle  Wizard  took  it  up,  the  sheet  fell  apart  into 
twenty  ribands,  which  fluttered  down,  and  settled  all 
over  him.  But  the  princess  was  gone  before  Uncle 
Wizard  could  turn  his  stiff  neck  to  look  after  her 
reproachfully,  and  as  the  rain  had  stopped,  off  she  ran 
to  the  brook  in  great  glee,  to  hunt  for  white  pebbles 
on  the  edge  of  it,  with  which  she  meant  to  fill  up  the 
sugar-bowl,  after  she  had  stolen  out  the  lumps  of 
sugar  for  her  own  eating. 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


"  Well,  I  can't  stop  to  tell  you  of  her  tricks  ;  she 
had  worked  all  day  so  hard  at  being  naughty,  that 
she  went  to  bed  very  early,  all  tired  out.  But  the  rain 
and  wind,  that  had  lulled  in  the  middle  of  the  day, 
came  on  in  the  evening  worse  than  ever,  and  the 
princess  found  she  could  not  sleep,  there  was  such  a 
cracking  of  branches,  banging  of  shutters,  and  shak- 
ing of  windows.  She  began  to  feel  afraid  in  all  the 
hullabaloo  of  the  storm,  and  she  called  Aunt  Witch, 
in  a  very  rough  voice,  to  come  and  open  her  bed- 
room door,  that  she  might  just  take  a  look  at  the 
fire  for  company ;  her  room  was  next  the  kitchen,  and 
the  kitchen  fireplace  was  in  plain  sight  from  her  bed. 
Uncle  Wizard  and  Aunt  Witch  were  dozing  over  the 
hearth,  for  they  did  not  like  to  go  to  bed  in  such  a 
storm,  and  the  princess  lay  watching  their  shadows 
on  the  wall  where  their  heads  seemed  to  nod  from 
the  ceiling  down,  down,  down,  till  they  touched  the 
floor.  She  thought  of  a  nice  trick  she  could  play 
them ;  she  would  pin  Aunt  Witch's  apron  to  Uncle 
Wizard's  trousers,  and  then  pinch  herself  to  keep 
awake  till  they  should  get  up  from  their  chairs  to  go 
210 


THE     ISLE     OF     MAN. 


to  their  bedroom.  She  was  just  groping  her  way  to 
her  bureau,,  that  she  might  get  some  pins  from  her 
pin-cushion,  when  she  was  startled  by  hearing  a 
human  voice  near  the  house  calling  for  help,  and  she 
had  hardly  whisked  back  to  her  bed,  before  there  was 
a  knocking  at  the  door,  and  a  voice  crying,  '  Open, 
open,  good  people,  and  let  me  in  out  of  the  storm.' 
Uncle  Wizard  was  deaf,  to  be  sure,  but  he  was  so 
kind-hearted  that  he  could  always  hear  a  voice  in 
distress.  He  was  opening  the  door  in  a  moment,  in 
spite  of  his  rheumatism,  and  in  rushed  not  only  such 
a  blast  of  wind,  but  such  a  handsome  young  prince, 
soaking  wet,  to  be  sure,  yet  his  cheeks  glowed,  and  his 
eyes  shone  through  the  water  that  dripped  from  his 
lovely  curling  hair.  Aunt  Witch  heaped  more  wood 
on  the  fire,  and  the  princess  could  see  him  well,  as  he 
knelt  down  in  the  light  of  the  blaze,  after  throwing 
off  his  cloak  and  hat.  Little  did  he  think  that  the 
princess  Miau-meme  was  falling  deeper  and  deeper  in 
love  with  him  every  minute,  as  he  drew  his  long  light 
curls  out  between  his  white  fingers  to  dry  them,  and 
smiled  so  sweetly  on  the  old  couple  before  him,  with 

211 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


such  merry  eyes  and  such  shining  white  teeth.  He 
was  all  right  in  a  short  time,  and  the  princess  thought 
she  had  never  heard  music  so  delightful  as  his  voice, 
when  he  related  his  adventures  to  the  old  folks,  and 
told  them  how  he  had  lost  his  way  in  the  storm,  and 
got  separated  from  his  retinue,  as  he  was  returning 
through  the  woods  to  his  father's  palace." 

Here  a  broad  ray  of  sunshine  darted  into  the  room, 
and  Master  Meetwood  jumped  up  as  suddenly  as  if  it 
had  pierced  him  like  a  spear.  "  Hulloo,  here  's  fine 
weather  again ! "  he  cried,  "  and  I  must  go.  I  '11 
tell  you  the  rest  some  other  time.  Just  remember 
where  we  left  off,  you  know ;  prince  drying  himself, 
and  the  princess  Miau-meme  staring  at  him.  A  cat 
may  look  upon  a  king  —  " 

And  off  he  was  running,  but  little  Anne  seized  one 
hand  and  I  the  other,  and  we  begged  and  entreated 
him  not  to  go  till  he  had  finished  the  story.  "  We 
never,  never  shall  hear  the  end  of  it  unless  you  tell  it 
to  us  now"  I  said,  " for  you  know  you  always  lie 
by  the  kitchen  fire  on  the  settle,  and  snore  all  the 
evening,  and  besides  we  go  to  bed  so  very  early,  and 
212 


THE     ISLE    OF    MAN. 


perhaps  we  sha'n't  have  another  lovely  rainy  day  like 
this  —  » 

"  I  'm  sure  I  hope  not,"  said  Master  Fleetwood, 
fervently. 

"  And  you  know  you  never  have  stayed  in  the  house 
once  when  the  weather  was  pleasant,  —  never,  —  only 
that  one  day  when  you  eat  too  much  Sally  Lunn,  and 
the  other  day  when  you  had  the  brown  paper  and 
vinegar  on  your  head,  because  the  bedpost  knocked 
against  you." 

Master  Fleetwood  was  good-natured  ;  he  hesitated. 
"  Will  you  tease  Mrs.  Cubbins  to  have  Sally  Lunn  for 
supper,  if  I  '11  finish  the  story  ?  "  he  asked. 

Of  course  we  joyfully  agreed  to  this,  and  as  the 
sunshine  very  opportunely  ' '  went  in"  again  as 
suddenly  as  it  had  popped  out,  he  yielded  to  our 
wishes,  and  set  himself  down  once  more  on  the 
blue  box,  with  the  sigh  of  a  martyr.  "  But  I  shall 
hurry  up  the  story  as  fast  as  I  can,"  he  said,  "  for 
when  the  sun  really  comes  out  to  stay,  you  don't 
catch  me  wasting  my  time  in  the  house.  Well,  it 
seems  the  prince  was  as  good  a  fellow  as  ever  lived, 

213 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


naturally,  and  he  'd  been  to  Sunday  school  and 
learned  about  loving  his  neighbor  as  himself,  and  if 
it  had  kept  on  raining  I  was  going  to  tell  you  all 
the  kind  things  he  did  for  Uncle  and  Aunt  W.,  on 
that  stormy  night  when  he  took  refuge  in  their 
house,  and  all  the  nice  speeches  he  made  to  them 
about  gratitude  and  hospitality,  and  that.  Why, 
besides  getting  wood  and  building  up  the  fire,  and 
filling  the  kettle  for  tea,  and  carving  the  venison 
pasty  with  his  own  hunting-knife,  he  insisted  on 
carrying  the  warming-pan  for  Aunt  W.,  who  was 
trotting  about  with  it,  and  talking  about  '  damp 
sheets/  You  see  she  was  making  up  her  own  bed 
for  the  prince,  with  clean  linen  sheets,  smelling  ever 
so  sweet  with  lavender;  but  when  he  found  out  it  was 
the  only  bed  in  the  house,  he  would  n't  take  it,  but 
just  insisted  on  sitting  up  over  the  fire  all  night. 
And  Princess  Miau-meme  kept  still  as  a  mouse,  and 
watched  him  as  if  he  had  been  a  mouse,  too,  and 
admired  his  good-nature  and  his  good  looks  with  all 
her  silly  little  heart.  Not  that  she  wanted  to  take  to 
goodness  too,  and  try  to  be  like  him ;  O  no,  she  only 

214 


THE     ISLE     OF     MAN. 


wished  he  would  wait  upon  her,  and  speak  kindly  to 
her,  and  smile  upon  her,  and  she  said  to  herself, 
f  It 's  just  my  luck  to  be  gone  to  bed  and  out  of  the 
way  on  this  night  of  all  others,  and  just  like  Aunt 
Witch  to  be  putting  herself  forward  and  getting 
noticed  in  my  place/ 

"  But  at  last  she  dropped  asleep, — just,  too,  as 
she  was  wondering  what  made  her  so  wide-awake, — 
and  slept  so  soundly,  that  she  did  not  hear  the  prince's 
servants,  who  had  found  out  where  he  was,  knock- 
ing him  up  early  in  the  morning.  To  be  sure,  the 
prince  opened  the  window  softly  and  forbade  their 
making  a  noise,  as  soon  as  he  heard  them  outside ; 
and  crept  out  on  tiptoe,  shutting  the  door  quietly 
after  him,  so  that  the  old  folks  might  not  be  dis- 
turbed. The  princess  was  awakened  at  last  by  the 
melancholy  sound  of  Aunt  Witch's  coffee-mill,  which 
always  creaked  dismally  when  she  was  grinding  the 
coffee  for  breakfast. 

"  Well,  after  that  time,  the  princess,  with  her  usual 
selfishness,  gave  herself  up  entirely  to  thinking  about 
the  prince,  and  to  prowling  about  in  the  woods  or 

215 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


about  the  palace,  or  wherever  she  could  get  a  chance 
to  peep  at  him.  And  wherever  she  went  she  over- 
heard the  servitors  and  the  cottagers  and  the  hunts- 
men of  the  prince  forever  talking  about  his  goodness 
and  kindness,  and  how  he  had  done  this,  that,  and  the 
other  generous  thing  for  his  people.  And  the  prin- 
cess began  to  think  she  should  like  to  do  something 
for  him,  who  was  so  good  to  every  one  else ;  and 
with  her  usual  unreasonableness,  she  let  this  idea 
take  hold  of  her  and  grow  and  grow,  till  at  last  she 
felt  not  only  that  she  should  like  to  do  something 
for  the  prince,  but  that  she  must  do  something  for 
him  or  die,  and  finally  that  it  must  be  a  something 
that  should  tax  the  very  utmost  of  her  power  to  per- 
form. 

"  But  all  this  time,  she  did  not  forget  her  beauti- 
ful feathery  tail,  and  indeed  it  was  the  only  thing 
that  gave  her  any  comfort.  She  was  never  tired  of 
combing  and  curling  it,  of  admiring  its  silvery  tip,  as 
it  closed  itself  softly  over  her  paw,  or  of  blowing  the 
fine  white  hair  gently  with  her  breath  till  it  was  fluffy 
and  round  as  a  ball.  You  see  she  had  been  flattered 

216 


THE    ISLE    OF    MAN. 


for  her  beautiful  tail  from  the  time  she  was  a  kitten, 
just  as  some  children  are  flattered  for  their  beautiful 
hair/'  Master  Meetwood  added,  significantly  looking 
at  my  elf-locks,  which  Mary  patiently  put  into  curl- 
papers every  night,  in  the  hope,  daily  disappointed, 
that  a  lovely  row  of  ringlets  would  reward  her  for  her 
trouble.  Ah,  those  curl-papers !  they  were  so  tightly 
twisted  at  the  back  of  my  neck  that  I  seemed  to  go 
to  bed  with  a  necklace  of  prickles.  Just  at  the  mo- 
ment Master  Meetwood  spoke,  I  fear  my  hair  was  in 
a  more  disreputable  condition  than  ever,  owing  to  the 
dampness  of  the  day,  which  must  have  been  fatal  to 
curls,  and  I  looked  up  into  his  face  to  see  if  he  could 
possibly  be  in  earnest  in  approving  of  it;  I  should  have 
been  so  glad  to  believe  this,  but  I  had  an  uncomfort- 
able feeling  that  he  was  "  chaffing/'  though  his  face 
was  perfectly  sober.  So  I  tried  hard  to  appear  as  if 
I  had  not  considered  his  remark  personal.  "  Some- 
times," Master  Meetwood  continued,  going  on  with 
his  story,  —  "  sometimes  it  really  seemed  as  if  Miau- 
meme  thought  as  much  of  her  own  beautiful  tail  as 
she  did  of  the  prince.  —  There 's  the  sun  again  ! " 

217 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


And  up  he  started.  ' '  O  dear,  —  well,  it  seems  to  me 
I  never  shall  get  through  with  this  story,  —  you 
must  n't  mind  my  hurrying  it  along/'  he  added,  be- 
ginning to  speak  very  fast,  and  sitting  down  once 
more  reluctantly.  "  Well,  the  princess  got  into  a 
way  of  hiding  about  in  the  woods,  and  following  the 
prince  whenever  he  went  hunting  or  riding  horseback ; 
she  had  a  sort  of  an  idea  that  perhaps  something 
would  happen  to  him  unexpectedly,  and  that  she 
might  be  able  to  assist  him ;  and  0,  how  delightful 
it  would  be,  she  thought,  if  she  could  really  do  him 
such  a  good  turn  that  he  must  feel  grateful  to  her, 
and  she  used  to  shut  her  pretty  green  eyes,  and  fancy 
the  prince  smiling  at  her  and  speaking  to  her  so 
gently  and  kindly. 

11  Well,  at  last  it  was  announced  that  the  prince  was 
to  have  a  great  hawking-party,  the  first  of  the  season, 
in  order  to  try  some  new  falcons  that  had  been  sent 
from  England,  and  that  his  falconers  had  been  train- 
ing for  a  long  time.  —  Now,"  said  Master  Fleetwood, 
stopping  short  and  looking  at  me  severely,  "don't 
you  fidget  so,  and  look  as  if  you  were  going  to  inter- 
sis 


THE     ISLE     OF     MAN. 


rupt  me.  I  know  what  you  are  going  to  say ;  you 
are  going  to  tell  me  you  don't  know  what  a  hawking- 
party  is,  nor  what  sort  of  creatures  falcons  are,  and 
all  that,  but  I  can't  possibly  stop  to  tell  you."  Then, 
thinking  I  was  about  to  speak,  Master  Fleetwood  put 
his  hand  over  my  mouth.  "  Hold  on  !  "  said  he,  "  I 
take  it  all  back  about  the  hawking-party,  it  was  a 
£*tt£f»y-party  that  was  to  come  off,  after  all,  and  I 
don't  know  why  I  made  such  a  mistake,  —  yes,  a 
hunting-party,  to  try  a  lot  of  new  hounds;  you 
know  all  about  that  —  Well  —  " 

I  was  very  indignant  that  Master  Fleetwood  should 
take  me  for  such  an  ignoramus,  and  as  soon  as  I 
could  push  his  hand  away  from  my  mouth,  I  started 
up,  red  as  fire,  exclaiming,  "  I  know  as  much  about 
hawks  and  falcons  as  you  do.  I  had  n't  the  least 
idea  of  asking  you  a  single  question  about  them.  I 
read  all  about  hawking-parties  long  ago,  in  my  fa- 
ther's Strutt—  "* 

"There,  there,  there,"  said  Master  Fleetwood, 
soothingly,  —  "  that  '11  do.  Don't  get  angry ;  you 

*  A  charming  book  called  "  Strutt's  Sports  and  Pastimes." 
219 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


're  as  red  as  a  turkey-cock.  Your  father's  Strutt 
indeed !  You  look  a  great  deal  more  like  strutting 
yourself.  How  should  I  know  you  were  a  Solomon 
in  pinafores  ?  Have  a  peppermint  ?  "  he  added  po- 
litely, producing  some  pink  and  white  fragments  of 
that  sweetmeat  from  the  bottom  of  his  pocket,  mixed 
up  with  a  handful  of  tacks  and  ha'pennies,  and  a 
common-sized  piece  of  chalk.  I  was  mollified,  and, 
selecting  the  cleanest  morsel  of  peppermint  from 
among  this  assortment  of  treasures,  which  Master 
Meetwood  held  out  to  me  in  his  large  palm,  I  ven- 
tured to  put  the  question  that  really  had  been  on  my 
tongue's  end  for  some  minutes. 

"  I  did  want  to  know,"  I  said,  ' '  what  had  become 
of  the  woods  you  are  talking  about  so  much,  for  there 
is  n't  a  tree  to  be  seen  now.  When  you  told  us  there 
was  to  be  a  hawking-party,  it  reminded  me  that  I 
had  n't  asked  you  that  question." 

"  O,  well,  I  can  tell  you  that  in  a  jiffy,"  said  Mas- 
ter Fleetwood.  "You  see,  when  all  the  fairies  left 
the  island,  they  pulled  the  trees  up  by  the  roots  to 
make  rafts  of  them  to  cross  the  water  with.  And  now 

220 


THE     ISLE    OF    MAN. 


I  '11  finish  the  story ;  there  was  a  hawking-party  after 
all,  —  I  was  right  at  first,  —  and  of  course  the  poor 
little  pussy -princess  was  scampering  about  the  county, 
here  and  there  and  everywhere,  climbing  up  trees  and 
hiding  behind  rocks,  following  the  prince  as  he  gal- 
loped along,  turning  and  twisting  this  way  and  that, 
with  his  eyes  on  the  clouds,  watching  the  hawks  and 
herons  that  were  working  up  against  them,  higher 
and  higher,  like  so  many  corkscrews.  The  truth  is, 
she  was  dreadfully  alarmed  for  the  prince,  who  seemed 
after  a  while  to  lose  his  head  entirely,  in  the  excite- 
ment of  the  chase,  and  when  he  got  into  the  open 
country  he  spurred  his  horse  like  mad  over  rocks 
and  stones,  so  that  she  could  follow  his  course  by  the 
trail  of  sparks  which  the  iron  hoofs  struck  out  at 
every  bound.  None  of  his  attendants  could  keep  up 
with  him  but  the  head  huntsman,  who  had  known 
him  from  a  child,  and  who  was  perfectly  devoted  to 
him ;  and  though  both  he  and  his  horse  were  ready  to 
drop  from  fatigue,  they  managed  just  to  keep  the 
reckless  prince  in  sight. 

( '  Now  came  the  grand  catastrophe,"  said  Master 

221 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


Fleetwood,  drawing  in  his  breath,  and  clenching  his 
hands,  while  we  held  our  breath  in  excitement. 
"  Just  as  the  prince  was  passing  a  young  tree,  in 
whose  branches,  as  it  happened,  poor  Miau-meme  was 
hiding  herself,  his  horse  paused  suddenly,  and  a  long 
slender  bough  struck  the  poor  prince  right  across 
both  eyes,  which  were  wide  open,  staring  straight  up 
into  the  sky.  He  was  thrown  backward  violently  to 
the  ground,  and  his  horse,  with  one  rush,  crashed  into 
the  underbrush,  and  vanished  like  a  flash  of  light- 
ning. 

"  The  prince  must  have  felt  as  if  he  had  been 
struck  by  lightning,  the  accident  was  so —  Hurrah! 
how  jolly  \"  For  the  attic  was  suddenly  illuminated 
by  a  flood  of  sunshine,  and  unmistakable  blue  sky 
was  visible  through  the  small  leaded  window-panes. 
Master  Fleetwood  shuffled  his  feet  impatiently. 
"Lucky  I'm  almost  done/'  said  he.  "Well, 
the  prince  was  n't  killed,  after  all ;  he  must  have 
had  an  awful  thick  skull;  his  old  falconer  had 
him  up  in  his  arms  in  a  twinkling,  and  he  had  salts 
and  cologne  and  things  in  his  pocket  to  bring  him  to. 


THE     ISLE     OF     MAN. 


I  can't  stop  to  go  through  the  particulars,,  only  at  last 
he  was  leaning  his  head  against  a  juniper  bush  as 
good  as  new,  all  but  his  eyes,  —  only  he  had  no  more 
strength  than  a  baby,  —  0,  they  were  in  a  terrible  way, 
all  bloodshot,  and  he  could  n't  open  them,  and  they 
felt  as  if  a  hot  poker  had  been  laid  across  them.  A 
cold  wind  was  blowing  right  in  the  prince's  face,  and 
it  cut  his  poor  eyes  like  a  sharp  knife;  the  poor  fel- 
low groaned,  and  tried  to  cover  them  with  his  hands, 
but  they  dropped  down  limp,  he  was  so  weak. 

" '  Oh !  oh !  oh ! '  cried  the  old  falconer, f  I  must  bind 
up  his  poor  eyes,  or  this  cold  wind  will  put  them  out 
entirely  before  I  can  get  him  home.  0  dear,  dear ! 
your  Eoyal  Highness,  where  is  your  handkerchief? 
where  is  your  sash  ? '  But  the  prince's  handkerchief 
had  blown  away  long  ago,  and  he  had  pulled  off  his 
sash  and  thrown  it  to  a  poor  half-naked  man  shaking 
with  rheumatism,  who  made  haste  to  crouch  by  the 
side  of  the  road  as  the  prince  whirled  past  him  full 
gallop,  — -  and  the  poor  falconer  could  find  absolutely 
nothing  wherewith  he  could  bind  up  his  dear  master's 
eyes.  Of  course  nobody  but  princes  and  such  like 

223 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


had  handkerchiefs  in  those  days,  even  the  fairies 
used  white  rose-petals  instead,  and  the  falconer  had 
only  one  best  go-to-church  yellow-silk  handkerchief, 
with  white  spots,  and  that  was  safe  in  his  trunk 
at  home.  '0  Winastraw/  cried  he,  after  he  had 
looked  in  vain  for  something  to  tie  round  his  mas- 
ter's eyes,  '  0  cushla  ma  chree,  Savourneen  Deelish, 
och  hone,  mavourneen,  Eileen  Ogg,  —  O,  what  shall  I 
do  ?  This  wind  will  destroy  his  sight  forever/  And 
while  he  was  wailing  and  pulling  out  his  gray  hair 
by  hands  full,  what  do  you  think  the  princess  was 
about  ?  She  was  actually  unscrewing  her  tail,  —  her 
beautiful,  beloved,  adored,  precious  tail, —  that  she 
might  offer  it  to  the  prince  as  a  bandage  for  his  eyes  ! 
You  should  have  heard  the  cry  of  joy  the  old  falconer 
gave,  when  she  thrust  it  into  his  hand  with  one  little 
white  paw,  while  with  the  other  she  hid  her  face,  for 
the  tears  would  come  into  her  pretty  green  eyes  after 
such  a  dreadful  sacrifice  as  she  had  made.  '  0  the 
soft,  warm  bandage!'  murmured  the  prince,  as  the 
falconer  made  haste  to  bind  poor  Miau-meme's  gift 
over  his  eyes.  f  O,  how  light,  O,  how  delicate,  how 

224 


THE    ISLE    OF    MAN. 


comforting !  my  poor  eyes  are  eased  already/  But  he 
was  too  weak  to  ask  questions,  or  take  much  notice ; 
he  could  not  even  see  poor  Miau-meme,  who,  after  all, 
sacrificed  herself  to  the  prince,  and  never  received  in 
return  one  of  those  soft  words,  kind  looks,  or  bright 
smiles  that  she  had  so  longed  for." 

Here  Master  Eleetwood  got  up,  stretched  himself, 
and  walked  to  the  door,  but  he  came  back  to  say  ab- 
ruptly, "  O,  I  forgot  the  point  of  the  story,  —  the 
powers  above  or  below,  or  the  fairies,  or  what  you 
will,  took  notice  of  the  princess  Miau-meme's  great 
sacrifice,  and  ever  since  that  time  the  Manx-cats  have 
been  tailless,  as  she  was  all  the  rest  of  her  life,  just  in 
memory  of  her." 

Master  Fleetwood  went  whistling  down  stairs, 
three  steps  at  a  time,  and  left  us  to  ponder  over  the 
point  of  the  story,  as  he  called  it ;  but  we  never  could 
decide  whether  the  powers  above  or  the  fairies  meant 
to  punish  or  reward  poor  Miau-meme,  by  docking  the 
tails  of  her  descendants  forever. 


VII. 


"YOU  MUSTN'T  TOUCH!" 

summer  my  father  took  country  lodgings 
for  his  family  at  a  market-gardener's  some 
three  miles  from  town.  This  gardener  not  only 
raised  vegetables  and  flowers,  but  delicious  fruit  of 
all  kinds,  from  early  strawberries  to  late  pears.  He 
was  always  at  work  in  his  garden,  and  he  was  standing 
at  the  gate,  spade  in  hand,  when  the  carriage  which 

brought   us   from   M turned  into   his  avenue. 

We  children  crowded  to  the  window  to  look  at  him, 
on  papa's  saying,  "There  is  our  landlord/'  We 
thought  he  looked  very  cross,  and  no  wonder ;  I 
suppose  he  would  rather  have  seen  a  flock  of  black- 
birds settling  in  his  best  cherry-tree,  than  three  little 
girls  coming  to  play  all  summer  in  his  garden,  with 
their  little  fingers  and  thumbs  all  ready  to  pick  his 


YOU     MUSTN'T    TOUCH! 


fruit  and  flowers.  Before  mamma  had  taken  her 
bonnet  off  in  her  new  lodgings,  the  poor  gardener  was 
knocking  at  her  door,  respectfully  asking  permission 
"  to  have  a  word  with  the  missis/'  After  scratching 
his  head  and  clearing  his  throat  a  good  deal,  and 
looking  down  carefully  on  the  three  little  heads  that 
hardly  reached  above  his  knees,  for  we  little  ones 
came  up  shyly  to  make  acquaintance  with  the  new 
landlord,  he  managed  to  say  that  he  "  thought  the 
young  ladies  was  bigger  nor  what  they  was,"  when  he 
agreed  to  let  his  lodgings  to  "the  master."  He 
thought  "we  was  ladies  growed," — a  very  natural  mis- 
take, as  very  small  children  are  spoken  of  in  England 
as  young  ladies  and  gentlemen,  and  papa,  always  in  a 
hurry,  had  probably  not  gone  into  particulars  about 
our  ages.  Now,  seeing  that  we  "  was  just  the  wrong 
size,  neither  ladies  growed,  nor  hinfants  in  harms," 
what  was  to  be  done  about  his  garden  ?  What  was 
to  prevent  our  picking  his  most  valuable  flowers  and 
eating  his  most  expensive  fruit  ?  We  might  be  the 
"  ruination  "  of  him,  he  said,  though  he  tried  to  put 
it  as  politely  as  possible  by  repeating,  over  and  over 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


again,,  that  "  children  would  be  children,  and  very 
nateral,  ma'am." 

"But  they  need  not  be  thieves,  Mr.  Mason," 
mamma  answered  austerely,  "  and  I  will  answer  for  it 
that  my  children  sha'  n't  touch  so  much  as  a  dan- 
delion in  your  garden  without  leave."  And  seeing 
him  look  incredulous,  she  added,  "  You  may  make  a 
charge  on  your  bill  for  every  currant  or  gooseberry 
they  steal,  or  any  flower  they  steal." 

"  O  ma'am,  I  should  n't  go  for  to  call  it  stealing  ; 
just  to  help  theirselves  is  the  nater  of  little  uns," 
said  the  poor  gardener  in  great  confusion,  and  look- 
ing down  with  a  softened  eye  on  little  Anne,  who,  sit- 
ting on  the  carpet,  had  spied  a  spot  of  mud  on  his 
trousers,  and  was  trying  to  rub  it  out  with  her  little 
forefinger,  which  she  first  put  into  her  mouth  and 
then  applied  vigorously  to  the  spot  with  about  one- 
fly-power. 

In  short,  mamma  promised  for  us  that  we  would 
do  no  mischief  in  Mr.  Mason's  garden,  that  we  would 
never  even  pick  as  much  as  a  green  leaf  without  permis- 
sion. Perhaps  she  thought  this  promise  was  rather  a 


'YOU  MUSTN'T  TOUCH!' 


rash  one,  for  I  remember  that  she  accompanied  us  on 
our  first  walks  about  the  garden,  preaching  strenuous 
little  sermons  to  us  on  the  text,  "  You  must  n't  touch ! " 
And  mamma's  sermons  were  effective,  for  she  had  no 
time  to  impress  them  upon  us  by  means  of  reasoning 
or  moral  suasion,  and  if  we  did  not  practise  what 
she  preached,  we  got  certain  little  whippings  that 
refreshed  our  memories  wonderfully.  Then  we  had 
always  been  accustomed  to  implicit  obedience,  and  on 
the  whole  mamma  had  little  difficulty  in  training  us 
to  respect  Mr.  Mason's  property.  Honestly  I  don't 
remember  a  single  occasion  when  we  disobeyed  her 
orders  "  not  to  touch,"  and  she  had  reason  for  the 
modest  pride  with  which  I  heard  her  say  to  visitors, 
"  My  children  are  pretty  good  children ;  on  the 
whole  —  as  children  go  —  they  do  obey  me  as  well  as 
I  can  expect." 

But  the  good  gardener  was  delighted ;  he  thought 
my  mother  was  the  most  wonderful  woman  in  exist- 
ence, and  that  we  were  the  most  wonderful  children. 
At  first  he  would  follow  us  about  the  garden  with  an 
anxious  face,  but  when  he  found  he  really  could  de- 

229 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


pend  on  our  honesty,  he  began  to  welcome  our  com- 
ing with  pleasure,  and  soon  became  very  fond  of  us. 
He  told  us  one  day  that  he  would  give  us  —  my  sis- 
ter Anne  and  myself  —  little  gardens  of  our  own,  if 
we  liked,  —  gardens  as  big  as  a  pocket-handkerchief. 
Of  course  we  "liked,"  and  away  we  ran  to  find 
the  biggest  possible  handkerchief  as  a  measure. 
Little  Anne  unfolded  her  precious  picture  handker- 
chief, "  Poor  Bichard's  Maxims/''  printed  in  red,  and 
in  rhyme :  — 

"  For  want  of  a  nail  the  shoe  was  lost ; 
For  want  of  a  shoe  the  horse  was  lost ; 
For  want  of  a  horse  the  rider  was  lost." 

"  Many  strokes  fell  great  oaks." 

"  He  that  by  the  plough  would  thrive, 
Himself  must  either  hold  or  drive."     Etc.,  etc. 

These  were  all  illustrated  with  the  loveliest  deep-red 
pictures,  —  a  little  blotchy,  to  be  sure.  But  this 
treasure  was  too  small  for  our  purpose.  My  hand- 
kerchiefs were  made  of  select  pieces  cut  from  the  flaps 
of  my  father's  old  linen  shirts,  and  were  not  only  small, 
but  oblong,  and  we  wanted  our  gardens  to  be  square. 

230 


"YOU  MUSTN'T  TOUCH!" 


Mrs.  Mason,  whom  we  found  very  busy  with  her 
hands  in  dough,  when  we  ran  into  the  kitchen  to  ask 
for  her  handkerchief,  told  us  we  might  put  our 
hands  into  her  pocket  and  pull  it  out  for  ourselves. 
We  dived  deep  into  the  pocket  of  her  stuff  petticoat, 
and  pulled  out  —  what  looked  to  be  a  very  snuffy  rag, 
of  no  particular  shape  or  color.  We  popped  it  back 
again  into  her  pocket,  unopened,  and,  hearing  John 
Cookson,  papa's  groom,  whistling  in  the  yard,  we  ran 
out  to  hirtiy  clamoring  for  his  handkerchief.  "'And- 
kerchaw  !  "  said  John,  grinning  from  ear  to  ear,  and 
showing  a  splendid  set  of  strong  white  teeth,  "  what 
are  you  maning,  you  young  uns  ?  Did  you  ever 
see  me  with  sich  a  harticle  as  a  'andkerchaw  ?  / 
don't  carry  no  sich  trumpery  fallals."  And  John 
significantly  drew  his  shirt-sleeve  across  his  nose. 
Then  we  ran  back  to  the  house  and  made  our  request 
to  Mary,  who  was  "  redding  up  "  the  nursery.  She 
went  to  the  top  drawer  of  the  bureau,  and  produced 
the  desired  article  in  starched  cotton,  nicely  folded, 
with  a  blue  border  and  edged  with  coarse  lace,  but 
even  with  this  addition,  the  handkerchief  did  not 

231 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


open  out  as  large  as  one  of  mamma's  made  of  linen- 
cambric,  which  Mary  brought  us  to  compare  in  size 
with  hers.  At  last  we  luckily  remembered  a  certain 
very  large  yellow  bandanna  of  papa's,  too  big  for 
his  pocket,  and  which  he  wore  round  his  neck  in  cold 
weather.  We  told  Mr.  Mason  this,  honestly ;  but  he 
was  kind  enough  to  let  us  take  it  to  measure  our  gar- 
dens by,  which  made  us  jump  for  joy,  for  it  was  a 
full  yard  square.  He  marked  these  gardens  off  with 
his  spade,  side  by  side ;  they  extended  from  a  peony 
bush  on  the  right,  to  a  flowering  almond  on  the  left, 
just  as  the  Garden  of  Eden  extended  from  the  Tigris 
to  the  Euphrates ;  and  I  don't  believe  the  Garden  of 
Eden  looked  a  bit  more  important  to  Adam  and  Eve 
than  our  landed  property  looked  to  Anna  and  me,  as 
we  stood  admiring  it,  after  Mr.  Mason  had  gone  off 
whistling. 

Now  my  genius  for  landscape-gardening  came  out 
in  full  force  ;  every  day  my  garden  was  laid  out  in  a 
new  way,  and  little  Anne  imitated  every  change  I 
made.  With  sharp  sticks  we  drew  the  walks ;  some- 
times they  meandered,  sometimes  they  took  the  form 


YOU    MUSTN'T    TOUCH!" 


of  a  cross  or  a  star.  Of  course  we  fenced  in  our  gar- 
dens, at  first  with  chips,  then  with  tenpenny  nails,  — 
rusty,  however,  for  we  pulled  them  out  of  some  old 
boards  in  the  cow-shed,  and  tore  our  fingers  so  badly 
that  for  a  week  Mary  kept  them  bound  up  in  rags. 
Mrs.  Mason  one  day  gave  me  some  old  skewers ;  she 
did  it  to  get  rid  of  us,  for  she  was  perched  on  the  top 
of  a  very  high  step-ladder  in  the  pantry,  rummaging 
the  upper  shelf,  and  we  probably  teased  her  by  walk- 
ing our  dolls,  supposed  to  be  angels,  up  and  down  the 
steps,  which  we  called  Jacob's  ladder.  We  ran  to  our 
gardens  with  the  skewers,  and  made  of  them  some 
magnificent  gateways,  interspersed  among  the  ten- 
penny  nails.  Then  we  determined  to  have  a  chain- 
and-post  fence,  such  as  we  had  seen  at  Denham 
Park ;  by  dint  of  long  and  patient  teasing,  not  only 
of  mamma  and  Mary,  but  of  Betty  the  cook,  Mrs. 
Mason,  and  her  maid  Jane,  and  even  of  "old  granny" 
Mason,  whom  we  almost  feared  to  approach  because 
she  wore  an  old  black-silk  hood  like  a  pillow-case 
instead  of  a  cap,  we  made  a  collection  of  darning- 
needles.  These  we  threaded  upon  two  long  needlefuls 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


of  granny's  blue  yarn,,  and  set  them  round  our  gardens 
for  posts,  the  yarn  which  connected  them  being  the 
chain.  Luckily  it  was  light,  for  the  posts  were  few 
and  far  between. 

At  first  we  made  our  gardens  gay  with  wild-flow- 
ers, and  they  fairly  dazzled  our  eyes  with  their  splen- 
dor when  they  were  stuck  full  of  yellow  gorse  and 
dandelions.  But  as  these  withered  in  a  day,  in  spite 
of  all  our  watering, — and  we  kept  our  gardens  perfect 
Sloughs  of  Despond  for  their  sakes,  —  we  soon  got 
tired  of  real  flowers,  and  made  beautiful  ones  our- 
selves from  snippings  of  our  sashes  and  bits  of  the  red 
flannel  that  granny  used  for  rheumatism.  We  thrust 
pins  through  our  flowers  for  branches,  and  then 
stuck  the  pins  in  circles  round  bits  of  stick  that 
served  us  for  shrubbery.  We  worked  as  hard,  in 
forming  elegant  groups  of  this  shrubbery,  as  did  the 
poor  gentleman  who  laid  out  Studleigh  Park,  and  who 
regularly  climbed  to  his  observatory  on  the  top  of  a 
hill,  to  see  the  effect  of  every  new  tree  he  planted. 
Mr.  Mason,  too,  was  planting  trees, — valuable  young 
fruit-trees,  which  he  protected  by  little  wooden 

234 


YOU    MUSTN'T    TOUCH! 


frames,  and  we  too  had  our  slips  of  plum  and  cherry 
trees  carefully  planted  through  the  centre  of  empty 
spools,  which  we  set  out  in  regular  rows  in  what  we 
considered  to  be  the  sunniest  corner  of  our  gardens. 

One  day  we  had  two  valuable  presents,  —  a  Noah's 
Ark  from  papa,  and  a  handful  of  small  unsalable 
radishes  from  Mr.  Mason.  Behold  us  then  busy  in 
turning  our  gardens  into  wildernesses  ;  we  threw  away 
our  ever-flowering  shrubbery,  even  our  fruit-trees,  and 
rubbed  out  our  walks  with  the  toes  of  our  shoes. 
What  a  trouble  it  was  to  lay  our  gardens  down  to 
grass  !  We  could  only  carefully  put  together,  like  a 
dissected  map,  the  bits  of  turf  that  we  were  able  to 
scratch  up  with  our  little  hands,  and  stamp  it  down 
with  all  the  strength  of  our  stout  little  feet.  Then  we 
made  a  dark  forest  on  one  side  of  our  gardens  with 
twigs  of  juniper,  in  which  the  wild  beasts  of  the  ark 
roared  and  ramped.  On  the  other  side,  the  radishes 
were  planted  in  squads,  like  soldiers,  and  very  mar- 
tial they  looked  in  their  red  coats,  with  tufts  of  tall 
green  feathers  in  their  helmets.  Each  had  a  needle 
stuck  through  him  for  a  gun,  and  they  were  supposed 

235 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


to  be  defending  the  settlers  on  the  edge  of  the  wilder- 
ness from  the  wild  beasts.  These  settlers  had  just 
come  out  of  the  ark,  and  had  set  up  housekeeping  for 
themselves,  in  tents  made  of  half  egg-shells,  over 
the  top  of  which  they  gazed  fixedly  at  the  lions  and 
tigers. 

We  enjoyed  this  tableau  so  much,  that  we  amused 
ourselves  by  inventing  others.  The  grass  in  our 
gardens  was  supposed  to  be  an  ocean,  in  the  midst  of 
which  floated  the  ark ;  by  that  time  it  had  fortu- 
nately lost  its  cover,  so  that  Mmes.  Shem,  Ham,  and 
Japhet  could  conveniently  look  down  from  the  top 
and  admire  the  bravery  of  their  husbands,  boldly 
navigating  the  ark  by  means  of  slate-pencils  (oars) 
on  the  deck  below.  The  radishes  and  the  wild  beasts 
lay  scattered  about  on  their  sides,  drowned,  and  the 
dove  and  the  raven  were  hopefully  in  view,  astride 
over  a  couple  of  tree-tops  in  the  forest.  Another 
time  we  turned  Noah  into  Christopher  Columbus;  we 
had  to  nail  him  with  a  tack  to  the  top  of  the  ark, 
now  a  Spanish  galleon,  as  we  found  it  difficult  to  keep 
his  face  turned  toward  the  New  World, — the  juniper 


"YOU    MUSTN'T    TOUCH! 


forest,  wherein  the  resuscitated  radishes  figured  as  red 
Indians,  with  feathers  on  their  heads. 

Our  gardens  were  everything  by  turns,  and  nothing 
long.  We  had  a  boarding-school  there  for  our  dolls ; 
we  came  there  as  travellers  ourselves.  Our  gardens 
bore  in  turn  the  names  of  all  the  countries  of  Europe 
that  we  could  spell  out  on  the  map.  If  they  were 
Turkey,  we  gobbled,  gobbled,  to  each  other  by  way  of 
speaking  the  language;  if  Switzerland,  we  made  a  hiss- 
ing with  our  mouths  that  sounded  like  Swiss,  Swiss ; 
if  France,  we  repeated  over  and  over,  We,  we,  we  ; 
if  Hungary,  we  made  a  sound  of  chewing  with  our 
jaws.  In  giving  us  those  small  squares  of  ground, 
good  Mr.  Mason  had  done  the  best  possible  thing  for 
his  own  garden  as  far  as  we  were  concerned ;  we  were 
so  absorbed  in  them  that  we  forgot  everything  else. 
The  gardener  and  his  men  were  busy  at  work  all 
about  us  every  day:  they  picked  fruit  for  market, 
and  gathered  flowers  for  what  they  called  "  cottage- 
bouquets,"  because  they  were  composed  of  simple 
garden-flowers ;  but  we  took  no  notice  of  them.  I 
remember  the  "red-haired  currant-bushes,"  as  we 

237 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


called  them,  thickly  covered  with  clusters  of  fruit 
hanging  like  short  curls,  and  the  brown  rows  of 
jargonelle  pears  suspended  from  slender  branches 
trained  along  the  garden  walls,  like  the  bells  in  the 
coffee-room  of  the  "  Manchester  Arms."  You  see, 
objects  were  doubly  interesting  to  me,  because  they 
always  put  me  in  mind  of  something  different  from 
themselves.  And  I  remember  seeing  tall  Mr.  Mason 
in  the  greenhouse,  with  my  little  sister  Lucretia 
perched,  light  as  a  butterfly,  on  his  shoulder.  From 
this  elevation  she  would  peep  at  us  through  the  vine- 
branches  trained  along  the  low  glass  roof,  her  clean 
pinafore  gleaming  white  among  the  leaves,  and  the 
vine-tendrils  clustering  about  her  face,  and  twisting 
themselves  round  her  own  short  curls. 

Now  it  so  happened  that  Mr.  Mason  possessed  an 
apple-tree  of  so  rare  and  peculiar  a  kind  that  he  had 
thought  it  worthy  of  a  conspicuous  place  in  his  gar- 
den, and  he  had  therefore  set  it  out  in  the  little  grass- 
plot,  right  in  front  of  the  house,  and  in  full  view  of 
the  windows.  This  tree  was  young,  and  was  bearing 
this  summer  for  the  first  time.  It  was  ornamented 


YOU    MUSTN'T    TOUCH! 


with  a  few  clusters  of  pink  and  white  blossoms,  when 
we  first  took  possession  of  our  lodgings,  and  we  soon 
learned  to  feel  a  great  sympathy  with  Mr.  Mason 
when  we  saw  him  walking  about  the  little  tree,  with 
his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  his  pipe  in  his  mouth, 
wondering  what  sort  of  apples  would  grow  in  place  of 
those  blossoms,  whose  white  petals  would  drift  slowly 
down  upon  his  nose  when  he  stopped  to  survey  them. 
After  they  were  all  blown  away,  half  a  dozen  little 
green  knobs  appeared  in  their  places.  "We  passed  the 
tree  often  on  our  way  to  and  from  the  house,  and 
when  we  saw  Mr.  Mason  standing  under  it,  scrutiniz- 
ing those  little  knobs,  we  used  to  run  and  take  him  by 
the  hand  and  stare  up  at  them  too,  wrinkling  the  tops 
of  our  little  noses,  and  shading  our  eyes  from  the  sun, 
just  as  he  did.  He  watched  those  baby  apples,  so  we 
thought,  as  closely  as  mamma  watched  our  baby,  and 
when  a  tinge  of  red  appeared  in  their  cheeks,  he 
showed  as  much  pleasure  as  mamma  did  when  our 
poor  pale  baby  began  to  get  a  little  color.  We  lis- 
tened respectfully  when  Mr.  Mason  read  to  us  the 
name  of  the  tree,  which  was  printed  in  Latin  on  a  slip 

239 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


of  wood  and  tied  to  a  convenient  bough,  and  we 
wondered,  in  sympathy  with  him,  what  its  fruit  would 
be  like  when  it  was  ripe.  Little  Anne  only  hoped 
it  would  be  "  nice"  while  /  pictured  the  apples  to 
myself  as  gorgeously  beautiful  as  new  red  morocco 
balls  with  orange  stripes. 

Well,  the  days  and  the  weeks  of  that  beautiful 
summer  slipped  away,  and  the  different  fruits  in  Mr. 
Mason's  garden  ripened,  came  to  perfection,  and 
passed  away  in  turn  j  mamma  was  an  excellent  cus- 
tomer, buying  as  much  of  it  for  us  as  she  thought  we 
ought  to  eat.  Cherries,  strawberries,  currants,  rasp- 
berries, how  beautiful  they  looked,  red  and  white, 
heaped  up  in  mamma's  cut-glass  bowls!  yet  we 
thought  no  fruit  in  the  garden  half  as  handsome  as 
the  apples  ripening  on  the  little  tree  in  the  middle 
of  the  grass-plot.  They  turned  out  to  be  summer 
apples  of  the  largest  size,  swelling  out  suddenly  in  the 
July  heat,  almost  as  rapidly  as  soap-bubbles,  into 
great  globes  of  color,  really  not  so  much  unlike  our 
morocco  balls,  after  all !  And  one  day,  after  smelling 
at  them  as  carefully  as  if  they  were  so  many  nosegays, 

240 


YOU    MUSTN'T    TOUCH! 


and  pinching  them  very  gently  with  his  thumb  and 
finger,  Mr.  Mason  pronounced  them  to  be  ripe,  and 
declared  he  should  soon  pick  them. 

Now  it  happened  that  the  largest,  reddest,  roundest, 
yellowest  apple  of  all  hung  nearly  within  our  reach, 
at  the  end  of  a  long  slender  branch  that  had  been 
growing  downwards  all  summer  under  its  weight. 
When  my  sister  Anne  saw  Mr.  Mason  examining  the 
fruit  on  the  little  tree,  she  wished  to  touch  this  apple 
for  herself,  that  she  might  see  whether  it  was  ripe ; 
she  thought  Mr.  Mason  would  value  her  opinion  on 
the  subject.  So,  with  great  labor,  I  held  her  up, 
wavering  in  the  air,  while  she  laid  her  small  finger 
solemnly  on  the  rosy  apple,  bobbing  above  her  head. 
As  soon  as  she  found  herself  safe  on  the  ground  again, 
she  ran  to  Mr.  Mason  and  pronounced  her  verdict,  — 
" yipe !  no,  I  mean  wipe"  for  she  was  often  cor- 
rected for  her  manner  of  pronouncing  the  letter  U. 
"Ah!  ah!  ah!  (R!)»  said  the  gardener,  shaking  his 
finger  at  her  playfully,  though  I  don't  think  she  ap- 
preciated the  pun,  "but  you  shouldn't  touch,  you 
know,  —  must  n't  touch  the  apple  again."  "  No,  in- 

241 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


deed/'  cried  Mary,  hurrying  up  to  see  what  we  were 
about,  — "  no,  Miss  Anne,  you  must  n't  touch/' 
Mamma  now  appeared  at  the  parlor  windowr,  and, 
seeing  us  all  together  on  the  grass-plot,  she  was,  as 
usual,  afraid  that  something  was  wrong.  "  What 's 
the  matter,  Mary  ?  "  cried  she ;  "  have  the  children 
done  anything  naughty?  "  She  was  apt  to  think  that 
we  either  had  been  naughty,  were  naughty,  or  were 
going  to  be  naughty.  "  No,  ma'am/'  said  Mary,  in 
her  shrill  treble,  ' '  I  was  only  telling  Miss  Anne  she 
must  n't  touch."  "  No,  no,  children,  don't  touch,  be 
sure  you  don't  touch !  "  said  mamma,  speaking  on 
general  principles. 

I  dare  say  you  think  Mr.  Mason  was  very  stingy 
about  his  apples,  but  the  truth  was,  he  meant  to  send 

them  to  a  horticultural  show  in  M ,  as  they  were 

of  a  new  and  rare  variety.  Now,  when  he  went  to 
gather  them,  he  found  to  his  surprise  the  very  apple 
on  which  little  Anne  had  laid  her  finger,  the  hand- 
somest of  the  half-dozen  that  grew  on  the  tree,  still 
hanging  from  the  end  of  the  branch,  but  with  a  piece 
bitten  out  of  one  side.  Mr.  Mason  took  it  into  the 


YOU    MUSTN'T    TOUCH!' 


house  and  showed  my  mother  the  marks  of  little 
teeth  upon  it.  Mamma  was  very  much  concerned. 
"  Little  Eve  has  bitten  the  apple/'  the  gardener  said, 
laughing ;  in  fact  he  laughed  and  chuckled  to  himself 
about  it  so  much  that  mamma  could  not  under- 
stand it,  yet  she  was  very  glad  that  he  did  not  seem 
as  vexed  and  sorry  as  she  had  expected,  for  she  knew 
the  value  he  set  on  his  rare  fruit. 

"  But  which  of  the  children  did  it  ?  "  asked  she. 
"  I  must  punish  the  little  thing  severely,  and  I  am 
more  grieved  than  I  can  tell,  to  think  that  one  of  my 
children  should  have  been  so  very,  very  naughty." 

"  Now,  missus/'  said  the  gardener,  still  laughing, 
"  don't  take  it  to  heart,  there  was  nothing  naughty 
about  it.  I  won't  tell  you  who  did  it,  unless  you 
promise  me  you  won't  punish  the  little  gal" 

"  You  are  very  kind  to  make  light  of  the  matter," 
said  mamma,  gravely,  "but  the  little  girl  who  bit 
your  apple  did  a  very  wicked  thing,  and  I  can't 
promise  to  overlook  it." 

Just  then  we  came  running  into  the  room,  Anne 
and  I,  freshly  dressed,  washed,  and  curled  for  the 

243 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


afternoon  by  careful  Mary,  and  we  both  spied  at  once 
the  bitten  apple  in  Mr.  Mason's  hand. 

"  Little  girls  who  steal  will  also  tell  lies,  I  know," 
said  mamma,  taking  each  of  us  by  the  hand  and  mak- 
ing us  stand  in  front  of  her,  so  that  she  could  study 
our  faces.  We  looked  up  wonderingly,  and  we 
caught  the  reflection  of  ourselves,  two  little  fairies  in 
white,  peeping  at  us  out  of  mamma's  beautiful  brown 
eyes,  which  were  bent  on  us  with  severity.  But  I 
am  sure  she  saw  no  guilt  in  our  two  astonished 
faces.  "Do  you  see  the  apple  in  Mr.  Mason's 
hand  ?  "  said  mamma,  sternly.  "  One  of  you  little 
girls  bit  that  piece  out  of  it ;  I  hope  you  won't  add 
to  your  fault  by  telling  a  lie  about  it."  And  she  looked 
first  at  me  and  then  at  Anne,  baffled  by  our  apparent 
innocence.  "  Which  of  you  bit  that  apple  ?  " 

"  O,  /  did,"  answered  little  Anne  simply,  as  if  re- 
lieved at  having  a  question  she  could  understand.  "I 
did  it  yesterday  afternoon  just  before  tea.  I  don't 
want  to  tell  a  lie,  mamma.  I  took  the  little  black 
footstool,  and  I  could  reach  the  apple  beautifully,  and 
I  bit  out  as  big  a  piece  as  I  could,  and  it  tasted  ever 

244 


YOU    MUST  N'T    TOUCH! 


so  nice."  And  she  continued  to  look  in  mamma's 
face  as  if  she  could  not  get  over  her  surprise  at  seeing 
it  so  sober. 

Mamma  was  equally  surprised  at  Anne's  manner 
and  way  of  speaking ;  the  dear  child  showed  no  sense 
of  guilt  or  shame. 

"Don't  you  know  that  you  have  been  a  very 
naughty,  disobedient  girl  ?  "  said  she.  "  Don't  you 
remember  how  often  I  have  told  you  not  to  touch 
those  apples,  —  over  and  over  again  ?  " 

"  0,  but,  mamma,"  cried  Anne,  eagerly,  as  if  a  new 
light  had  broken  in  upon  her,  "  did  you  really  think 
I  touched  ?  Are  you  angry  because  you  thought  I 
touched?  Well,  I  didn't  touch,  I  did  remember 
what  you  said.  When  I  stood  on  the  footstool,  I 
just  clasped  my  hands  together  behind  my  back,  so 
that  I  should  be  sure  not  to  touch,  and  I  held  'em 
so  all  the  time,  —  though  it  did  make  me  tumble  off 
the  stool."  And  she  showed  a  black  and  blue  spot  on 
her  soft  white  arm,  and  looked  up  into  mamma's  face 
with  the  most  innocent  eyes  in  the  world. 

"  It 's  just  so,  missus,  just  as  she  tells  it,"  said  Mr. 

245 


PEASY'S     CHILDHOOD. 


Mason,  coming  forward.  "  I  seen  her  do  it.  I  seen 
her  bite  the  apple  in  the  cutest  way,  with  her  two 
little  hands  at  the  back  of  her  pinafore.  She  did  n't 
go  for  to  do  one  mite  of  wrong,  I  do  assure  you ; 
and  it  was  seein'  her  a-tiptoe  atop  of  that  stool ! 
and  herself  patiently  trying  to  stick  her  teeth  in  the 
apple,  which  knocked  against  her  little  nose  like  a 
pendulum  a-s winging, — I  say  it  was  that  made  me 
laugh  so,  missus,  just  now,  a-thinking  of  it,  and  you 
must  not  scold  her  a  bit/''  And  Mr.  Mason  laughed 
again  as  he  drew  this  little  picture. 

Anne  laughed  too.  "O  mamma,"  said  she,  "I 
was  so  afraid  of  knocking  the  apple  off,  when  it  bobbed 
about  so.  Because  if  I  had,  if  it  had  tumbled  on 
the  ground,  I  should  not  have  got  one  single  taste  of 
it,  —  for  you  know  you  told  us  we  must  n't  touch,  so 
I  could  n't  have  picked  it  up." 

We  were  still  standing  at  mamma's  knee,  and  as 
she  looked  down  into  Anne's  eager  little  face,  I  no- 
ticed that  the  tiny  fairies  in  her  eyes  seemed  to  be 
suddenly  caught  in  a  shower.  There  were  certainly 
drops  of  water  in  mamma's  eyes,  but  I  never  sus- 


"YOU    MUST  N'T    TOUCH! 


pected  they  were  tears,  or  that  grown-up  people  ever 
cried.  Why,  even  children  never  cried  for  nothing, 
and  nobody  had  been  scolding  mamma,  or  telling 
her  "  not  to  touch."  I  saw  her  stoop,  and  kiss 
tenderly  the  black  and  blue  spot  on  Anne's  little 
round  arm,  without  finding  any  fault  with  the  dear 
child,  after  all ;  and  then  I  suppose  she  went  quietly 
away,  for  I  only  remember  as  the  conclusion  of  the 
matter,  a  certain  delightful  journey  on  horseback  that 
my  sister  and  I  performed  sitting  one  on  each  of 
Mr.  Mason's  corduroy  knees.  On  these  hard  trot- 
ting horses  we  made  several  journeys  to  London  and 
back  again  with  such  speed  as  almost  to  take  away 
our  breath,  and  we  should  have  tumbled  off  our  slip- 
pery side-saddle,  if  Mr.  Mason  had  not  held  us  firmly 
in  his  strong  arms. 

There  was  a  delightful  moment  on  every  return  trip 
from  London,  when  we  met  at  full  gallop,  like  knights 
in  a  tournament,  and  when  Mr.  Mason  did  his  best  to 
knock  our  heads  together,  as  we  passed  each  other. 
We  resisted  with  might  and  main,  and  there  was 
plenty  of  screaming  and  laughing  and  prancing  of 

247 


PEASY'S    CHILDHOOD. 


fiery  steeds.  Horses  and  riders  were  glad  to  rest  at 
last,  and  -partake  of  refreshments  in  the  shape  of  the 
bitten  apple,  which  Mr.  Mason  generously  cut  up  into 
mouthfuls  with  his  jack-knife,  and  divided  between 
us,  taking  a  bite  himself,  once  in  a  while,  by  way  of 
toll. 

248 


THE    END. 


Printed  at  the  University  Press,  Cambridge. 


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